


The Talented Miss Ripely

by roxymissrose



Series: Ripley, Believe It Or Not [2]
Category: SV - Fandom
Genre: Angst and Humor, M/M, Shmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-18
Updated: 2011-10-18
Packaged: 2017-10-24 17:52:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 48,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/266240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roxymissrose/pseuds/roxymissrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post m-preg story, in which Ripely's two dad's are morons, and true love(and Poppa's little girl) saves the day.</p><p>originally posted 6-29-2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Lex! Something’s wrong with Ripley!”

Lex woke up with a start and for a moment, he was confused—was he dreaming?

He could feel that the bed was empty—he looked up to see that yes, Clark was gone, and leaped up, went running down the hall to Alexandra’s room.

Even in the low pink light of the nursery, (chosen for its soothing properties) he could tell Clark was white faced and panicked. He was jiggling in place holding a smiling Alexandra and gasped in relief when he saw Lex. “Lex, thank God you finally came! Something’s terribly wrong with Rip!”

Lex looked Clark up and down with narrowed eyes as he stepped into the nursery. “It’s Alexandra and what is in the world is the matter?”

“She threw up.” He held her out for Lex to see, as if he might mistake who ‘she’ was.

 _* I’m going to kill him…*_ “All babies throw up Clark,” he explained patiently, “It’s the nature of the beast.”

“But…look…” he pointed to the far wall, where a mural of Christopher Robin and friends dripped with a thin coat of vomit.

“So? And ech.”

“We were standing right here…” the spot was a good ten feet from the defaced wall.

Lex did a classic double take, and yelped, “Oh my god! Call—did you call Toby?”

“No, and where the heck is Dr. Chang?”

Lex raised an eyebrow and looked at Clark with interest. “I imagine he’s somewhere sunny and bright—he’s on vacation. You know, time off for working non-stop?”

Clark gasped and his eyes went wild and wide. “What! How could he go now--how could you *let* him go? He should be here! Why did you let him leave?”

“Well, let’s see…if I were to force him to stay, forbid him to leave the lab, well…that would be what we call *slavery*, Clark, well paid or not. _don’t think I didn’t consider it_ and that is *illegal*. _unfortunately._ ”

“Oh, right, of course…” Clark looked so upset, still so carefully cradling the tiny baby on his huge shoulder. She was almost completely covered by that huge hand…Lex felt a warmth in his heart…and, he had to admit, a bit lower. Clark in total protective mode did things to him. Plus there was something about him holding Alexandra, and looking so young himself; so lost and worried…it made Lex’s heart melt completely.

“Sweetheart, she’s fine--look, she’s smiling. You probably just stuffed her, that’s all. Remember, as long as you give her the bottle, she’s not going to stop eating…like someone else I know.” He gave Clark a little smile, and reached out for their baby and Clark reluctantly let go. “Why don’t you get some rest? You’ve got an early day tomorrow, and I can work from home—it’ll be fine.”

“Really, Lex?” He yawned hugely and scratched a hand through his hair. He peered at Lexie and grinned. “She does look okay. I’ll give Mom a call tomorrow. She had to learn everything from scratch, too-- bet she has good advice.”

“I’m positive she does, Clark.” He kissed him, and Clark kissed back, slowly, and thoroughly. Lex gasped a little when he pulled back. He shook his head at an evilly grinning Clark “Go! Sleep, I mean it.”

Clark grinned and patted Alexandra on her bottom before leaving Lex with her in the nursery.

******

“Lexie, come to Daddy, come on, you can do it!”

Lex sat at the breakfast table looking over the newspaper at Clark and Lexie. Lexie was gradually pulling herself erect on the chair. Banana mush covered her chest and her hands, and transferred itself to the leather seat. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but when she managed to balance on wobbly feet, she beamed at him.

“Yay, Lexie!” Clark crowed and swept her up to sit with him on the floor.

Lex smiled proudly. No baby was more advanced than his Lexie. Clark grinned at him, and caught Lexie as she stumbled. He leaned back on his hands and stretched out his legs, bounced Lexie on his shins.

“Don’t forget,” he said, “I have that interview for the internship today. I’ll drop Lexie off at the office before it, if that’s all right.”

Lex nodded and sipped at his coffee. He quickly sent off a memo, arranged for the nanny to pick Lexie up at the office after Clark’s Mommy And Me playgroup.

Lex still wasn’t entirely happy about the fact that Clark was the only man in the playgroup and technically single…of course, he’d had everyone in the group investigated. His child was not going to be in the company of potential stalkers or axe-murderers. Plus showing up once or twice unannounced had helped to assuage his discomfort. If those women had any doubt Clark was taken, his showing up had to have put an end to it. Clark couldn’t help but telegraph to all and sundry that he was Lex’s—the way his face lit up when he saw him….

Lex was absolutely convinced that it was different for him. That when he saw Clark, his face only revealed mild pleasure. What he didn’t know was that he could look as solemn as he chose to, it was all in the eyes, and no one could mistake that for Lex, the sun rose and set on Clark.

Later that afternoon, they celebrated Clark’s getting the internship at the Daily Planet, one more step completed in Clark’s game plan. Clark Kent, currently gofer and underpaid slave, but someday soon—reporter.

Lex had received the enthusiastic news as he was leaving a meeting, trailed by his assistants and execs, juggling papers and his briefcase, fending off an over-enthusiastic assistant with a cup of coffee--or a potential weapon, depending on whether the young woman managed to connect or not--and trying to answer a dozen different demands for his attention without loosing his train of thought but that wasn’t important—what was important was that Clark was happy—so of course, he was happy, too.

“Wonderful sweetheart, I’m so proud of you—no. No! I had nothing to do with it—Clark, if I were to meddle, you’d be doing much more than schlepping coffee and whatnot at the Planet, you’d be the editor. Yes, it’s all right, I forgive you. You know, you really have to have more confidence in your abilities. You need to set a good example for Lexie. I love you too. See you at home—how is she—never mind, I hear her!”

They celebrated at home, after the baby slept. The table set with the best, the cook outdid herself, candles burned on every surface, and Clark outshone them with his enthusiasm. He poured wine while telling Lex how the interview went, and sighed with a look of long suffering patience and barely concealed disappointment when Lex got a call in the middle of dinner. Lex looked up and sighed himself—on the inside. He smiled at Clark. “We’ll continue this at start of business tomorrow, it can wait that long.” he said into the phone and flipped it across the room.

Clark beamed at Lex and reached out for his hand. Lex smiled back as Clark raised it to his mouth. That could wait—this couldn’t.

*******

Lexie sat on Clark’s stomach and babbled to her toes. The comforter was scattered with cracker crumbs and books, and Lex tried to keep her sippy cup from tilting onto the sheets.

Lexie suddenly stopped, and looked seriously at him, a little frown line wrinkling her brow. He looked back at her and raised an eyebrow. “Is there something I can help you with?” he asked and she frowned harder. Clark said she looked just like him when she frowned. He didn’t see it, of course.

Lexie over balanced and used Clark’s nose as support and still she frowned, ignoring Clark’s mock groan of pain. Lex stared back at her, smiling a bit. “She looks like she’s thinking hard, Clark. Look--”

“Poppa,” she said, clearly and poked him.

“Oh my god—did you hear that? She said poppa!” Lex looked amazed and Clark laughed.

“I heard. She’s brilliant, isn’t she? It’s like she knows who has the keys to the Porsche.”

“Shhh! She’s too young to drive—she simply knows I’m the parent with the most sense, right Lexie?”

“Poppa,” she said again, with an air of finality.

“She takes after you so much, Lex—she even has to have the last word.”

*****

It was a lovely early summer day, the kind of day that was so perfect, it was almost ridiculous, the kind of day that birdsong and traffic noises were music, and the air moved enough to bring the scent of flowers and sun-warmed brick drifting close. It was a day so perfect, they decided to throw caution to the wind and walked around to the small park across the street from the penthouse, a rare public outing for all of them. They bought pretzels from a street vendor, and a teething Lexie made short work of them. Wonderful freezing ice cream in little cups helped soothe her, and Lex didn’t even blanch when Clark bought her a hot dog and fed her little pieces as they strolled along.

“She likes to eat,” Clark grinned.

“Why am I not surprised,” Lex murmured. He watched the two of them finish off the hot dog and cast eyes about, no doubt looking for their next meal. Lex shook his head. He leaned down and adjusted Lexie’s sunhat, as much a disguise as protection against the sun, something Clark stubbornly insisted she didn’t need. It didn’t matter. A well-dressed baby wore a sunhat in the summer, period. It was just...right.

They tried very hard to provide Lexie with as normal a life as possible, and as private life as was possible. It was difficult to do. Anything that involved Lex Luthor was news, and not only was he the youngest billionaire in North America. He was frank about his sexuality, openly living with another man, and had an adopted daughter he was raising with him. At least, that was what the world knew, and Lex fought to keep it at that. It cost money, and time, but Lexie lived as average a life as…well…the child of a billionaire could live, he supposed. Clark’s life was unremarkable for a twenty year old, and it was a hard won anonymity. Most people weren’t aware that he was Lex’s mysterious ‘companion’. Again, expensive, but again, more than worth it. Clark’s life and his family’s life, was strictly his own business.

  
Lex strolled Alexandria around the little pond in the park, and watched the other children there run and float boats, and make life hard for their parents, their nannies…he looked forward to it all. He looked forward to growing old, watching Lexie become the beautiful woman she was going to be. Life was good, unbelievably good. Clark had been on staff at the Daily Planet for a year, doing well, beginning to make a name for himself, and his partner. Lex was moving closer to political office, working with his advisors and making contacts that would be helpful. Soon, everything he’d hoped for was about to take flight and best of all, he had his family. Finally. His own family.

Lexie was two….

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a warning—in this bit Lana gets trashed. The slighlty annoying bits of her personality are somewhat exaggerrated for dramatic effect. And because personally, I’m not wild about her. But I seldom mistreat her, so…hey, except for that one time, remember, when I turned her into a psychic vampire bitch from hell…heh. Good times, good times…um-—story?

“Clark—can you explain to me why Lana called today—called expecting to speak to you? She seemed shocked that we were roommates. Yes, that was how she put it--room mates. Where did she get that idea, I wonder?” Lex was incredibly angry, but he fastened Lexie’s jacket with the same gentle care he always took with her and shifted her diaper bag to his shoulder. He stared thoughtfully down at her little boots, and wondered why he just hadn’t taken care of Lana permanently in Paris.

Sentiment. Sentiment was a danger. That was a lesson Lionel tried many times to teach him, one that sadly he’d failed to learn. Sentiment got you nowhere and caused headaches and problems in the long run. He sighed and knelt again to adjust the zippers on Lexie’s boots.

“Gookie Monster! Gookies…” she crowed and kicked her feet upwards to see the blue shapes on her boot toes better. Lex looked down at her and his heart flipped. He felt a chill as he stared down at the satanic looking blue monsters on her toes—they appeared to be eating their own hands…he shivered. Something bad was coming, something horribly bad….

He grabbed the earpiece back when Lexie pulled it off and said, “What? I didn’t hear that…what? Clark. For God’s sake, Clark. Stop being an idiot.” He hung up because no words would come and he could feel the blood rush from his face. How could he? What was he thinking?

Moments later Lexie called out, “Daddy! Uppies!” and waved her hands—there was a rush of air behind him and Clark was suddenly at his side.

He was scowling, and his hair and clothes looked like he’d flown across the city, which made Lex even angrier.

“Lex, you hung up on me,” he growled.

“You’re right, I did—just a second, Clark.” He calmly picked up Alexandra, and tried to walk past Clark—Clark snagged her out of his arms and gave her a hug. She wrapped her arms around his head and they both turned to Lex.

Lex said, “I called the nanny to take her for a walk. Can you hand me her bag, please, it’s next to the carriage.”

“But you have your coat on—aren’t you taking her?”

Lex just stared at him. “Never mind.” He left the room, when he came back, he was with the nanny and she took a happily waving Lexie away. They waved back with big smiles and then Clark turned to Lex and snapped, “Why did you hang up on me?” and jerked back involuntarily--Lex was practically standing on Clark’s feet, he was that close to him and *completely* furious.

“Why the fuck were you talking to that—that—bitch? Why isn’t she busy with the fucking gallery--”

Clark looked uncomfortable, but said, “She’s home again, she wanted to get in touch with old friends, that’s all.”

“The fuck?” Lex slapped himself on the forehead and whirled away from Clark. He stomped across the room and then swung around to face Clark again. “What the fuck do I pay people for, if not to take care of shit like this?” Lex shouted. “This is your fault Clark—this bitch climbing out of the pit and trying to crawl back into our lives--this idealism of yours is a royal pain in the *ass*.”

Clark started talking faster, nearly babbling. “I’ve been talking to Lois—you know, my partner--and she says I should give Lana a chance to get to know Ri—Lexie.”

Clark was agitated and Lex could see guilt in his eyes and he was so angry it was difficult to stand still and try to listen to his idiot of a husband. Companion. Lover. Shit--whatever. Concentrate.“Your…*partner*…thinks it’s a good idea. I see. But did you ask me? Or was I asleep when you did? Because I don’t *fucking* remember you asking me.”

“Lex—I think she does have a point. And you’re cursing—a lot…”

Clark had the nerve to sound affronted—but just a little, he wasn’t a complete idiot. Lex’s hands clenched into such tight knots his knuckles were white and he fought to gather the shredded strands of his self-control. _don’t hit him, you’ll only break your hand…_ “Clark—for god’s sake, *what* did you tell her?”

“Nothing—I told her Lana was an…an egg donor. And that we—we hired someone else to carry Alexandra. That we hadn’t told her we did use her egg and…um.” Clark stopped and frowned, a deep wrinkle forming between his eyebrows and Lex refused to notice how green his eyes were and how black his lashes. Clark looked a little shame-faced. “It sounded logical when I told her.”

“Why? Why even *talk* to her about it?”

“Because she was asking questions about Lexie—I had to tell her something, you have no idea what Lois is like when she’s got a burr under her blanket—and then out of the blue Lana called me and wanted to get together and –and talking to her I remembered…”

Lex looked at him, his veins felt full of ice water. Remembered what—how much he cared? That some part of him loved her still—maybe wanted her still? Clark’s voice came to him from a distance—he might as well be standing alone in a deep well. “She’ll want to know what happened. Where Alexandra came from. Jesus-- you can’t lie for shit.” He was almost talking to himself now, thinking hard—he had to fix this somehow. “She’ll meet Lois and your stupid story will fall apart and I’ll lose you both.” Tears shimmered in his eyes and Clark stepped closer, hands out.

“Don’t,” he cried, “Lex! Please—you’re over reacting--it’s not that bad--”

“Too many people know, Clark—too many people know the truth. I can control Toby and his crew, your parents and Jordan love you too much to ever hurt you, but *anyone* else is—dangerous and unpredictable.”

He walked away from Clark.

“Lex—Lex, what are you going to do? Lex—Lex! Damn it, come back!”

Lex’s footsteps rang against the marble tile of the corridor. “Don’t ask me Clark,” he whispered, not caring really if he heard him or not. “  
This situation—it can only be resolved one way. My way.”

  
Clark went ahead with the meeting, ignoring the silence, choosing to pretend that everything was fine. He went to work, Lex went to work and Ripley met one or the other of them for lunch every day save this one—the day Clark chose to meet Lana.

He couldn’t explain to Lex why he had to meet her, he wasn’t sure himself. There was something in him that had to see her again. To see the person that started this chain of events. It didn’t matter if he wanted her in his life—he didn’t think he did, really. It was just…she was the beginning, the catalyst for great joy in his life, and even though he had no plans to share any of that with her, some part of him wanted to see…if anything was still there. Any of that feeling that had made him dream about her, want to have sex with her in the first place. Lex might have been the first person he had sex with that he loved, *so much* but Lana was the first he’d ever touched that way….

He stood outside the door of the Persian Room, and regretted the angry impulse that had made him arrange to meet Lana for lunch at a restaurant that was Lex’s and his favorite. He knew full well how Lex would view it—as a slap in the face. And Lex being Lex, that was dangerous….

She was sitting in the booth that Lex and he always sat at—the maitre d’ had automatically reserved the booth when he recognized Clark’s voice. Clark hadn’t expected it and his stomach dropped when he saw Lana at their table. He shivered and thought about the silly saying his dad used when someone got a chill—‘must have been a goose walked on your grave’….

Lunch was a million years long, and Lana was so awfully tedious. He didn’t remember her being quite this…boring. He certainly didn’t remember her being nearly so hamster like, either. There was something about the way she tucked her hair back, the way she nibbled at her lip, he almost expected her to start grooming her whiskers….

He didn’t even get to talk about Ripley because she wanted to know why he was living with Lex and wanted to tell him about her life in Paris, and of course, Lana being Lana, it was equal parts artistic and personal triumph and deep tragedy of the sort that could only occur in *her* life and how lonely and sad she felt—how much she truly needed a real friend.

Or, more precisely, she’d come to know she needed *him*…was there any possibility that he ever thought about her?

Clark answered truthfully that yes, he thought of her. Sometimes, his daughter showed traits she could only have gotten from one or another genetic donor and there were times Lana would flash before his eyes. Yeah, he was curious—had been curious--about her, and now having seen her again, he was even more thankful to be with Lex but Lana was more or less his daughter’s…mother, for lack of a better term.

Still, Clark smiled to himself, Ripley looked more like Lex, with her slate blue eyes and bright red tumble of curls, the same Lex had had in childhood. The resemblance showed too, in her solemn little expression when she was thinking, or trying to figure out some new thing, like buttoning her shirt, or putting on her sneakers, and she was stubborn like him, never giving up, trying over and over until she got it and refusing all help…

He squeaked and jumped. Lana was touching his leg under the table. “Clark, you were a million miles away…what where you thinking about?” She smiled and her smile seemed to say, I know perfectly well what you were thinking about, you big strong man you or, Clark thought, something along those lines.

“Lana, ah…you have to know—Lex is not my room mate. He’s my lover”

For a moment, she looked thrown for a loop, this had obviously not been in her game plan, but she recovered quickly. Her eyes glittered and her lips bowed into a smile. She laughed lightly and her hand fluttered to Clark’s arm. “Oh, Clark, *you’re* not gay. I don’t know how Lex managed to make you think otherwise, but you’re not. You proved that before I left,” she simpered. “I’m sure you’re just—grateful. I’ve heard what he’s done for you, the Daily Planet job, the exclusive contacts. He did the same for me—and I was just as grateful as you are, but that doesn’t make you *gay*.”

Clark frowned and shook his head. “No. It’s not that. And Lex had nothing to do with whatever success I have at the Planet—I’m good at my job. I’m happy living with Lex.”

She smiled, and dipped her head forward, her hair covered her face and she said, “I’m sure you think so, Clark. I thought I was happy with Josh, but I realized, he wasn’t the man I thought he was. And I came to realize, that I’d already been with the man I was meant to be with.”

Clark did his best not to get up and run, he held his smile. “Well, it’s very flattering, I’m sure, but I know *I’m* with the one meant for me. Lex is the man I love, and I am definitely gay.”

Lana dropped the subject with a look in her eye that Clark remembered from the past. He sighed. There was no way she would give up on this easily. He’d have to convince her before…well…before.

After dinner, they parted with Clark’s promise to talk to her at her hotel the next day. She looked almost triumphant, and Clark felt uncomfortable—a faint echo of the feelings he’d had when he was younger and thinking about the one and only time they’d had sex.  
He left without looking back, deep in thought….

Ten minutes later she was dead. A hit and run driver struck her down outside her hotel. No witnesses, no cameras, no clues, she died alone on the city street, surrounded by strangers.

Clark was stunned, horrified. But it was an accident and these things happened, no matter how horrible and stunning it was, they happened every day to thousands of people, he told himself that over and over--it was a horrible accident.

That same evening, after the Persian Room had closed for the day and the owner and staff were gone, the restaurant burned to the ground.

Clark moved out the next day.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

“You didn’t even ask.” Lex’s voice carried clear on the line, and it was calm, soft—and empty of hope, Clark realized--but that didn’t move him. Not in the least.

“I didn’t have to. I know the part of you that’s capable of this, just as well as the part of you...” he stopped and took a shaky breath, “…the part that loves us. I just didn’t think you would do a…a thing like this. Not now.”

“I’m capable of anything if it’s to protect my family. My child.”

“Alexandra is *my* child, not yours--” The words tumbled out of his mouth and he knew how wrong they were, but they hung there in the air like malignant fog, hurting them both.

“Clark. Don’t. She is. She’s mine as much as yours—look at her.”

“Than she’s yours and Lana’s *and* Jordan’s—are you going to murder him too?” Clark had to stop talking, he couldn’t breathe—How could he claim to love Ripley and do what he did? Tears squeezed out from under tight closed eyelids. He couldn’t even tell anyone what he’d done…he’d rather for Lana to die with no justice than to destroy Lex’s life and make Ripley’s harder because of it. Clark tried not to make a sound; he shook with the force it took to cry silently. Because that was a lie he told himself. The truth was, he couldn’t give up Lex. He just couldn’t do it—and that made him as bad as Lex….

Lex’s voice cut through the fog in his head. It was icy, any hint of pain gone. “Jordan knows he nothing to fear from me—and that was a right decision. I do what’s right for the ones I love. And I don’t regret what I do. Ever. Remember that, Clark.”

Lex disconnected and Clark sat staring at the phone.

*****  
In Clark’s mind, the move wasn’t permanent, it couldn’t be—he wasn’t capable of imagining a life without Lex. He just needed room to think. As long as he was in the same room with Lex, he couldn’t see things around him clearly. It was as if Lex had the power to cloud his mind.

Lex tried to make the move as smooth as possible and Clark nearly gave in a hundred times, it hurt so much to see Lex struggle to handle the situation with grace, treating it as a just a little bump in the road, and smiling, smiling, smiling to keep from upsetting Ripley.

He went back home, back to Smallville. Martha and Jonathan were pleased to have them, but worried. Clark refused to say much, just that he and Lex had come to have differences so great it was hard to live together. He swore to them, he was only home to find some space, to regain perspective. He hoped that it wouldn’t be long before they’d be back together. He said all the right things, with the right degree of regret and the right amount of smile, and took suitcases and baby inside, and didn’t wait for the limo to head back towards Metropolis.

His parents looked at each other. They heard Clark’s words, but his body language said something disastrous had happened. The fact that he was home instead of in Metropolis spoke volumes. Clark was transparent as glass, miserable and aching…but they didn’t give advice. They didn’t ask questions. They just made ready for Clark and their grandchild, and hoped for the best. Clark’s old room had a little cot shoved into it, and his old toys were brought in from the attic and life went on with a couple more plates at the table, a little more worry, and because of Lexie, a lot more joy.

******

“Look, Gramma, sheepses. An’ cows…an’ horsies…” Lexie examined her artwork critically, squinting at her color choices before deciding that they were passable. She looked at her grandmother with a blindingly beautiful grin. “ Cows eat grass.” She colored a wide scratchy swath of purple and declared it to be grass, and purple grass because purple was prettier than green.

Martha watched Clark’s little girl coloring pictures of horses and cows standing in and sometimes, on top of, a big red barn, their life here brand new and endlessly fascinating for her. She was so involved that Martha could observe her without being noticed. The long red curls bouncing around her shoulders reminded Martha of her own hair at that age, though her hair had never been so luminously red as Lexie’s. Lexie’s tongue poked out the corner of her mouth, her fingers were pale from the achingly careful grip she had on the crayon--careful not to snap the crayon she worked with, already so careful about so much, more so than Clark at the same age. She sighed.

Alexandra. Alexandra Kent-Luthor.

She wasn’t fooled, not one bit. Lexie had Lex’s last name, not Clark’s, not really. She was Lex’s possession, just like Clark was. She wondered just how long it would be before Lex would come to reclaim her. She couldn’t understand why Clark couldn’t see everything Lex was. Sure, he could be endearing when he chose, and he could be terribly charming, even seem almost innocently sweet. He’d sent all those scans of Lexie, like any doting father would, and without a word to their son. Clark wasn’t speaking to them at the time but he did it anyway and maybe that was guilt for having taken Clark from them…of course, he still sent tons of lovely photos of Lexie even now, without fail--videos of her and drawings she made.

Martha smiled at Lexie when she looked at her grandmother again with that million-watt grin. She had no doubt Lex thought he loved her, that he loved her son, it was just--she wasn’t sure Lex really *knew* what love meant. He wasn’t the type of man to let anything he cared for out of his grasp easily. He wasn’t afraid to use whatever means he decided was necessary, and she doubted whatever he decided was necessary would keep him awake at night. She knew that he never intended to *not* possess her son; that eventually he would have come to collect him—it was fate that intervened and sent Clark to him instead. A chill ran down her spine and she wondered…what would he *do* to bring those two back to him?

What had he done to make Clark, who was so blindly in love with him, leave him?

****

Jonathan begged off the game of kickball with Lexie and Clark, huffing for breath. Lexie was nearly as strong and fast as Clark had been at this age, and he wasn’t getting any younger. He grinned and gingerly lowered himself to the porch stair. It was great, having the two here with them. What a difference it made to hear a child’s laughter around the farm again, the pitter-patter of little feet—okay, more like the stomp-zoom of superhuman tiny feet. It was wonderful; all of it--except for the hours when Clark had to be gone, back to Metropolis and work. Lexie worried then, she worried about her Daddy, she worried about her Poppa, and when he was coming to see her, and would Daddy come home for real, real? It broke his heart that she worried so at such a young age, and Jonathan wondered right along with her, wondered when her Poppa was going to come. He hoped it would be soon.

He didn’t discuss his feelings with Martha anymore. They didn’t exactly see eye to eye on the subject. Where Lex’s actions seemed to cause Martha’s suspicions about Lex to grow, they had the opposite effect on him. Slowly but surely, these last four years opened his eyes to Lex Luthor. Lex had proved to him that he understood a man’s family was the most important thing in life. Lex understood it like he did, in just the same way. He wondered what Lex would have been like, raised in a family like theirs. He had such an enormous capacity to love, and an incredible sense of loyalty, what would he be like now, if that had been fostered instead of used, and twisted, almost out of all shape? Clark had needed Lex’s help, but Lex needed Clark as well.

He sighed and stretched a bit—it got colder sooner these days, he thought, and groaned a bit. Both Kent-Luthors’ heads shot towards him at the noise, with identical expressions of concern and he grinned and waved.

  
He knew Clark would move heaven and earth for Lex; after all, he’d left his family out of love and trust for Lex. He knew that Clark’s love was bone deep and returned in kind. It was obvious that for Lex and Clark, there was no one else. So he had to wonder, what the hell had Lex done to make Clark run. He watched his son and his grand-daughter playing in the yard and he could only imagine….

He grunted. Well, he had a pretty good imagination--whatever or whoever had been unbelievably foolish enough to interfere with Lexie, or Clark, had to have paid the ultimate price.


	4. Chapter 4

  
They’d raced through the shortest fall in history, and winter was moving in with a chilly vengeance. Thanksgiving had passed quietly, and it was about the worst Thanksgiving Clark had had since that first one with Lex—only this time Lex wasn’t there to make it better.

Ripley’s birthday was coming up, and Lois advised him to act as if it was an average normal birthday and not even mention to Rip that Poppa probably wasn’t going to be there. Clark shook his head. Not possible. He wished he could make Lois understand. Tell her enough so she’d see just how impossible it was to treat the day a miracle happened as if it were ordinary, but he was afraid, for her sake, to tell her anything…besides, no matter how much Lois claimed to be “just crazy about Lexie”-–he knew, she was a reporter first and a human being second.

He felt like he was teetering on the edge of a decision that might be totally wrong for Ripley—and for him. He couldn’t talk to his partner—there was only one person he could talk freely to….

He was in the barn, watching from the open loft doors as Mom drove off with Ripley. Out to do Christmas shopping, she’d said. For everyone, Clark had insisted, fixing his mother with a glare until she’d reminded him that she was after all, a grown-up, and would never deny Lexie’s other parent. Yeah. So far, Clark thought. She was very careful not to say anything negative about Lex, that much was true. Dad, on the other hand, was practically Lex’s cheerleader. Even though Dad knew why he wasn’t with him. This whole miserable situation was bending his brain—Dad was supposed to understand why he left, not make him feel like he was being selfish. He huffed. Lex had a friend in Dad, it seemed. And  
speaking of friends….

  
Clark picked up the phone and entered a number he hardly ever called anymore.

“Hello?”

“Umm, Jor…Jordan, it’s me.”

“Clark? Clark! What the hell—Clark, what the fuck is going on, dude? Lex is wandering around the penthouse like a ghost.”

“When were you at the penthouse...” Clark felt a strange twist in his chest, followed quickly by a huge sense of relief. He could talk to Jordan about anything. He was safe. “Jor…something bad is happening. I’m—I think it’s over for me and Lex.”

“Fuck, what? You’re full of shit. Lex would rather cut off his own hand than lose you. He loves you more than—fuck, he’s the definition of love. I can’t believe--”

“I left him. Because—because of something he did.”

“Oh…yeah? Tell you what, how about I drive out there and meet you? I’d love to see Ripley anyway.”

“Thanks Jordan, thanks a lot. How…how did he seem?”

“How do you think? We talked about the little girl, and about my business and stuff. He was thinking of you the whole time, even if he didn’t say it--you know.”

“Jordan…thanks. Maybe you can keep an eye on him for me.” Clark hung up and sighed in relief. At least Lex had someone to watch over him, someone they both could trust.

******

Jordan pulled up in the drive nearly three hours later on the dot—which meant he flew. He was almost as wild a driver as Lex, and they both loved their cars. He even had a silver 911 Turbo, same as Lex’s. When it came to rest into the drive, Clark was jabbed by a feeling of loss and longing.

Jordan jogged up the drive and kissed Clark hard, hugged him for a long time. “Man,” he murmured, his voice almost muffled by Clark’s coat collar. “I almost forgot how warm you are.” He shivered a bit and stepped back with a huge grin. “So—where’s the girl? I got something for her.”

“Her birthday’s coming up, and so’s Christmas—you shouldn’t be buying her things,” Clark scolded. “You’ll make her spoiled.”

“So? I get her what I want when I want, and you got nothing to say about it. Besides this is not just some toy, it’s a necessity.” He held up a mini version of a Metropolis Makos uniform. “See?”

Clark grinned broadly at his retreating back. Jordan—yeah, real tough guy, he was.

After dinner, and after Ripley had ripped open her gifts and sat on and slobbered ice cream all over her Uncle Jor and insisted he read her her bedtime story, Jordan and Clark finally snuck away to talk privately. They sat in the loft, an ancient space heater working over time, and Jordan complaining bitterly about the cold anyway. He was wrapped in an old trade blanket, settled back against the threadbare sofa that he remembered fondly. Satisfied that he couldn’t get more comfortable, he poked an arm out from under the blanket and pulled Clark against him. “So. Tell me what happened, Kent. What did he do?”

Clark let Jordan’s scent settle around him like a soothing cocoon. He almost hated to spoil it by talking, but… “What did he do? Shit.” Clark sighed, leaned back and told Jordan everything.

*****

“Ahhh…wow. Fuck me, that’s—that’s--wow.” Jordan sat frozen. Clark looked down at the ground, miserable with reliving it. Jordan patted his back.

So, dude…didn’t you think at *all* that was going to happen? I mean, if we think that’s what happened. *If* that’s what happened. Hell—you had to know that Lex was going to…what made you think he wouldn’t?”

“Because it’s terrible, and he could have handled it less…less…deadly.”

Jordan leaned around his back and stared at him. “Lex. You’re talking about Lex. Lex who loves you to the point that it’s insane, and I’m not sure that’s exaggerating. Who loves Rip like he gave birth to her. Who knows about me and knows it’d kill you if—but that you could live with the other one.” Jordan looked sadly at Clark.

Clark glared at him. “So what—I should just—get over it? Not make friends because he might, you know.”

“Shit Clark, don’t be an asshole. There are things that—that can’t have normal laws applied to them, you know? We know that bitch—no way would she have been trustworthy. It would have come out and I don’t know how she would have handled it, but remembering her—no. it wouldn’t have been good.” He turned to Clark and gave him a grin that went nowhere near his eyes, “I noticed you haven’t told the chick you work with. You’re pretty close—I don’t see you telling all. And don’t tell me it’s because of Lex.”

Clark opened his mouth to protest but Jordan just grinned wider. “Yeah?”

Clark pressed his lips together. “No, it’s not because of Lex. Not completely.”

“You better be careful—Lex might decide it’s not his job to protect you anymore. You want to be the one to make the rough decisions?”

Clark thought about what Jordan said long after he left. He could. If Ripley needed to be protected, he could do it—and without hurting anyone. That’s what the powers were good for—to protect his family….and he didn’t need Lex for that, not anymore. He wasn’t a kid anymore.

Running back and forth to Metropolis everyday gave him a little time to think about his situation. What Jordan said, it was true. He should have known, because the thing with Lex was, the thing was, there was always a test, a test you didn’t know about. And if you failed it, you didn’t often get another chance. And the difference between Jor and—and…maybe what made the difference was love. Maybe.

Talking to Lois—carefully—gave him an outlet, too. Lois was proving to be more than a partner; she was also a very good friend, as Clark saw it. She did her best to run interference when the papers rediscovered Lex and him. Since the news value of Lex Luthor coming out to the public--his lover being in college *and* a single dad--had worn thin, Clark had gotten unused to being in the spotlight. Lex had also done his best to give Clark the freedom to be as average a guy as he could be.

Now—now he was big news again, but this time, as the other half of a highly publicized break-up. It was maddening, embarrassing, and a constant reminder of his situation. He’d already replaced one TV and he learned pretty quickly to avoid the entertainment ‘news’ shows. Nasty and hurtful speculation ran wild as to the reason, and it affected every aspect of Lex’s and his life. Meetings where held, with yelling and door slamming, and some light rending of garments. He had apologized profusely (with a little encouragement from Lois) to Perry for ripping his tie to shreds of shreds, begged to do all the shit work and just managed to hold on to his job at the Planet.

Lex’s political aspirations were tanked for that year, though he was assured his chances for office weren’t dead—just a little…becalmed. Temporarily. Neither one of them would comment about the situation or each other—but when paparazzi managed to catch them, Clark was always on Lois’ arm, looking pissy and annoyed, and Lex was always alone, looking pale, yet brave…it was all about perception.

Lex was coming out of the upheaval smelling like a rose, while Clark was nearly hissed at and spat on by old ladies…well, okay, just one, but she’d been an evil crone, short and squat and vicious and she’d really kind of scared him. Lois kept her from throwing her decaf no sugar, no cream at him.

In fact, every step of the way, Lois was great. She listened, she let him talk, or just cry on her shoulder, any time of the day or night. She never asked what happened, she never asked uncomfortable questions about Ripley’s ‘mother’. She gave him advice; she prodded him to take care of himself and move on. She played with Ripley and showered her with attention. She even visited Smallville to spend time with the two of them. She ingratiated herself with Martha, swept her off her feet, and earned the right to visit anytime, any time at all.

She pissed Jonathan the hell off.

Clark was lonely--he was unused to being by himself, in fact he was unused to not having every emotional need catered to, and Lois was more than happy to do so. She could be sarcastic, a little bullying, a bit overpowering and larger than life, but she knew what to say to him and what to do to make him happy, and she pulled Clark into her orbit. She treated Ripley like she was precious, and treated Clark like his needs were all important. In some ways, she was a lot like Lex.

Days had turned into weeks and weeks into months and he was no closer to an answer that he could live with. He was lonely, unsure of himself and what he was feeling, and extremely grateful to Lois, who was there all the time, with a smile and a ready shoulder.

A blind man could see what was coming…


	5. Chapter 5

Lois threw her legs around Clark’s waist and pulled his head down to her. She tried for a kiss but he held his head up and squeezed his eyes shut, bit his lip ferociously. This was all wrong, all wrong—it was nothing like sex with Lex, and he was finding it difficult to keep his erection. He had no idea how this happened…sweat dampened his hair, made the sheets clammy. What the hell was he doing? He shifted and she squealed, his back itched between his shoulder blades. How had he ended up in bed with her-- something kept poking him under his navel, it felt kind of like one of those little plastic tag thingies that got stuck in your clothes, what the hell did she have attached to her, could a pubic hair be that sharp, gee--he had one foot twisted in the sheets and had to concentrate not to shred the fabric, he never had to do that with Lex….

He pulled back and thrust with a grunt--the condom felt weird—it dulled everything just a little, but he’d insisted and Lois had been touched by his responsibility and concern.

Yeah.

Clark was taking no chances, nobody was getting pregnant here if he could help it.

She moaned and wiggled, and he got a little softer. He took a deep breath and tried not to cough when the smell of smoke attacked his nose…she could at least have moved the ashtray away from the bed. “Ah…could we, um…turn around. Please—I mean, if you don’t mind, that is?”

She laughed. “Sure! Whatever floats your boat.”

He wondered briefly, for no more than a few seconds, if Lex was entirely wrong in his world-view because ‘floats your boat’? He shivered and then Lois was face down in the pillows, her ass in the air and Clark considered her ass for a moment, but he slid back into her pussy and held his breath, grabbed her hips carefully and reminded himself it was okay that she wasn’t Lex, Lex—his dick stiffened and he groaned. He was not going to think about Lex to get off—that would be twisted and sick and more wrong than what was happening now. Besides, Lex was bad. Lex was a bad, bad person. Lex was so bad, he was, he was—

Clark cried out and moaned when he came, and Lois thought it was pleasure and that was just fine with him. He wiped his eyes and his nose, and was damn glad it was over.

Life was a voyage of discovery, and he’d discovered he couldn’t *be* with a woman. It was possible in an intellectual kind of way, just not--it was all wrong and—and--wrong. And with Lois, it had been spectacularly wrong. Maybe if his mother hadn’t pushed so hard, maybe if his dad hadn’t made him so angry with the meaningful looks and judgmental glares….

Clark spent the next few weeks trying to keep himself out of Lois’ bed. He was desperately determined never to have sex with her again, even as she swore it had been amazing, the best she’d ever had. Clark had to wonder just who were these people she’d been having the god-awful horrendously bad sex with because he knew what he and Lois had had was possibly the worst sex in the history of sex. The only way it could have been worse was if one of them had died during it—and he thought that might even have been a blessing.

******

Clark was checking sources for an article about kick-backs and cronyism in the Metropolis sanitation department, when his cell phone buzzed and jittered across his desk. He snatched it up and glanced at the number. He took a deep breath. Control, be in control, he told himself, and answered.

“Yes? I’m really busy,” he whispered harshly into the phone and glanced around the newsroom. Lois was out and everyone else was busy—at least, they weren’t obviously eavesdropping.

“I suppose that was something else you had to get out of your system. Are you ready to come home now?”

Clark didn’t even wonder what Lex was talking about, or just how the hell he knew—he also seemed to know how awful it was. He could swear there was a note of sympathy behind the sarcasm. “That’s not what it was about. That’s not why I’m not home now.”

Lex sighed and said patiently, “The way I see it Clark, you’re punishing yourself for loving me.”

“No! No, that’s not it at all—why can’t you see what the problem is? Why isn’t it as obvious to you as it is to me?”

“Why do you think I’m such a monster? If I were as amoral a person as you seem to think, she’d be…no longer an issue…”

“Oh my god!” Clark gasped.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Clark!”

Lex sounded annoyed and tired—Clark hated when he did that. And since Clark wasn’t supposed to feel guilty, of course, he got defensive. “Are you going to threaten everyone I see?”

“Do you plan on seeing a lot of people? Let me know, because I’ll just have my printer make up cards, it'll save time when I’m threatening half the city,” Lex hissed, having finally lost his temper.

“What? I—I--are you trying to say—-forget it,I don’t want to talk to you anymore!”

“Wait—wait damn it. Fuck!”

Clark heard Lex yell and disconnected with vicious pleasure that evaporated as quickly as it came. Yeah—eff you too. What was Lex trying to say? That he was a slut or something? He’d slept with exactly four people in his life—that wasn’t *too* many, was it? Did it count that two of the people were just unbelievably terrible---quickly he apologized to Lois in his mind, and because it was more about her than it had a right to be, added Lana. Besides, no way Lex hadn’t slept his way through college. And high school, probably…and middle school too, he was willing to bet.

Clark sat at scowling at his phone, his eyes were stormy green and his cheekbones stained red with anger and hurt. People veered out of their way to avoid his desk, unnerved at the sight of good old kind of dorky Clark Kent, looking like he was about to murder an appliance. Better safe than sorry, was the general consensus. Even Lois, when she returned from a cigarette break, took one look at his expression and decided it’d be best to take another one.

*****

“Clark—you and Alexandra need to be here in Metropolis. It’s ridiculous, taking the train in every morning—it’s expensive and you’re wasting hours out of the day. I keep telling you I’ve got plenty of room for the two of you, and I mean it. Look, she can have her own room at my place--"

“She’s got her own room at Mom and Dad’s,” he cut in and groaned inside. Why the hell wouldn’t she just give up?

“Sure, but only because you sleep in the barn! If you lived here, you could get up at a reasonable hour and…you’d have company.”

She gave him a smile that he was pretty certain was meant to be seductive, but just kind of came off as a frightening leer, especially with plumes of smoke leaking from her nostrils. “Ah, ah, sure, um—but I really like Lexie having so much space and freedom. She can’t have that in the city.” Not that that had seemed important when they were living in the penthouse…he guided Lois around a patch of slush on the sidewalk and they continued up the block toward the Planet.

“Well, maybe she could live with your parents during the week and live with us on the weekend…” She trailed off at the look on Clark’s face. The noise of the traffic suddenly seemed to fade--at any rate, Clark could clearly be heard over the honking horns and screech of tires.

“What? Leave Lexie without me? She already sees one parent only on the weekend. You think she should only see both of them once a week? And then what? Split her between me and Lex over two days?” Clark realized he was getting louder and louder and he forced his voice into a lower register. “Boy, I can tell you don’t know kids,” he growled.

They stormed into the lobby of the Daily Planet and headed towards the elevators. Lois just managed to slip into the closing doors. Continuing their argument, she yelled, “Don’t know kids, hunh? Oh, I don’t know about that—I work with a huge spoiled brat every day!” Heads turned curiously to the duo. “And fix your damn tie,” she yelled. Clark was nonplused for a moment.

“Hunh?”

“It’s crooked! It’s crooked every single god-damn morning,” she yelled, and yanked it hard to the right.

“Yeah? Well, I work with a harridan—and leave my tie alone! Nobody asked you to take care of me. I was happy being friends. I never said I needed a mother. Another mother!” the doors opened on their floor, and Clark marched out, red-faced and tie askew.

“Oh, points for the big word, farm boy. And yeah, I forgot—you left your mother, didn’t you? Both of them!”

“Are you trying to say Lex is effeminate—because let me tell you, he’s all man!”

There was just the slightest intake of breath and Clark whirled around to see that the entire newsroom was their audience. A few of them had the grace to quickly act as if whatever was on their desks was totally absorbing, but most of them were hardened vets of whatever life could throw at you—and they stared openly, with the expressions of people wishing desperately for popcorn to go with the show.

Clark narrowed his eyes and growled from, “*All* man. Lots of man. Great big—um. Right.” He stopped and turned back to a supremely pissed off Lois.

“But—but--”she sputtered.

“Lois—as much as I appreciate what you *did* do for me, and I hope some of that was out of real friendship, I have to tell you—there’s no magic in it, and I’m still gay—gayer even, thank you.”

She stared at him for a moment, she’d gone bright red, and redder as Clark spoke, and she snapped out, “You’re a—a—gigantic asshole!” before spinning on her heel and storming off to the washrooms.

Clark glanced around at the fascinated faces before storming back to the elevators.

He could hear one of the women whisper, “So—is he or is he not bi, and do I have a chance?” before shutting everything out.

He wandered the city for an hour or so, walking around Rip’s park, not looking for Lex. He bought a few hotdogs and sat on a bench and ate them as he watched couples walk by and felt sorry for himself. At least he had his sense of right and wrong to keep him warm, he thought. And speaking of that—he fished his phone out of his coat pocket and dialed.

“Hey. It’s me—yes, I know you have caller ID, it’s just something you say when…well, I do have a point actually. Um, I’m trying to get to it, but you keep interrupting me—okay,” he grinned. “Yes, this is me saying I’m sorry. Thank you for accepting it.” He listened for a moment and sighed. “No, I don’t—all right. Yes, I do want to be with him. No, I can’t tell him that. Thank you, Lois. Yes, I do want to be friends. Thanks.”  
He hung up, hopeful that she really did understand.

When she appeared at the farm with a stuffed cat for Lexie, and sandwiches from Clark’s favorite deli and a demand that they talk, Clark just huffed a little and agreed.  
At the end of the evening, punctuated by loud discussion, a little cursing, and a lot of tears, they’d hashed out a working relationship, and salvaged their friendship.

Lois sat on the back step, looking up at the sky and sighed, blew a thick stream of smoke at the moon. “Really, so—that gay, hunh?”

Clark nodded. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“No, no, I’m the one who’s sorry. For myself too, just so you know, that was really the best--”

“Lois…”

“I get it, farmboy, I get it. Well. You can still turn to me when you need a shoulder. And for the record, I really do like your kid.” She turned to him and smiled. “But I’m done interfering. You’re right, she’s got all the parents she needs.”

Clark grinned in relief. “You can always be Aunt Lois, you know.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think so, and something tells me Lexie won’t mind if I’m not either.”

“Lois—I’m telling you, it was just coincidence she threw up on your shoes that day—you shouldn’t have put her on the carousel after all that junk you stuffed her with.”  
He had his fingers crossed behind his back.  



	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Our story began with the promise of a happy ending. Here is where the ending begins._

Ripley’s third birthday was spent in Smallville. She spent the morning with Martha Jonathan and Clark, and the afternoon with Clark and Jordan, and the night with Lex.  
Clark spent the night with a pounding headache, and the phone propped next to his ear, making Lois’ night long, and miserable, and long.

  
Ripley’s fourth birthday was spent at the farm, and this time Grandpa Jonathan called Lex and told him in no uncertain terms he was to spend the day with them. If he had to buy some fancy ass Scotch, he’d do so. Martha got on the phone and asked him please to come, there would be macaroni and cheese and apple pie…Clark got on the phone and said yes, he wanted him to come please, it would be nice. And not to worry about bringing a guest because he would have one too. Lex assured them that he would love to be there, and he looked forward to coming though he doubted he would bring a guest. He hung up the phone and smashed it into a million pieces, cleared his desk top with a snarl and as the pieces flew put his laptop through the tempered glass of the desk.

It wasn’t as satisfying as he’d hoped it would be.

******

It snowed the night before Ripley’s birthday, and the farm looked postcard beautiful. Snow frosted the trees; little gusts of wind blew sparkling flurries from the treetops and smoke from the chimney drifted away into the sapphire blue sky. There was a smell of wood smoke and cinnamon in the air, and real snow dusted the huge fir wreath on the front door.

Clark stopped in the newly cleared drive, heaved the wet shovel over his shoulder and considered the view. It was perfect, in fact, almost too perfect, Clark thought. He shook flakes from his hair and walked into the kitchen, stamped his feet on the mat.

His mom looked up from the kitchen table, Dad and Rip were sitting there too, sorting out the little metal game pieces for Monopoly. Clark smiled, he remembered that board, it had been his dad’s. He’d loved the little Scotty dog when he was a kid. Ripley looked up, “Daddy, you can play too—you can be any of these,” she pointed at the little pile, “But not the puppy. I’m the puppy. And Grandma made hot chocolate, if you get some can you get me some too?” She turned her attention back to the game, Dad dismissed until he was useful again.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, and poured cocoa for both of them, stole a snickerdoodle from the plate cooling by the stove and sat. Clark chose the shoe, and they began to play. He glanced around. Geez—it was ridiculous how much like a Christmas card they looked….

After about an hour, Ripley suddenly grinned and jumped up. “Poppa!” she crowed and ran out to the porch. Clark followed her out, and stopped on the porch, not wanting to intrude.

Lex was standing by the open car door, holding Ripley, and rubbing his cheek against her’s. “Yes, I love you,” he was saying, “And yes, I miss you all the time, too. Look in the backseat—Uncle Jordan sent a present for you. He’ promises to visit next time you’re home with me.”

Ripley let out an excited yell as she pulled a huge bag from Metropolis’ most famous toy store from the back seat. “Look Daddy, look what Unca Jordan sent me!”

She was holding a bright red truck, nearly as big as she was.

Lex grinned at Clark and said, “Do you think your dad will let her keep it?”

Clark tried not to laugh, tried to scowl. “That’s not funny, Lex.”

“Except, it is,” he gave Clark a small half grin and walked past him into the house, trailed by a happily jabbering Ripley.

  
Lex appeared comfortable and friendly, joking with Jonathan, and smiling easily as he talked to Martha. He made small talk with Clark, nothing important, or particularly interesting. He made no significant eye contact, but he didn’t avoid it either. Good, Clark thought. He’d worried it might be a little awkward but obviously Lex didn’t feel uncomfortable at all.

Not that he should.

After lunch, they all piled outside and made snowmen in the yard together, and Ripley taught him how to make snow angels just like Grandpa had taught her. Lex smiled with pride when she gravely inspected his angel and reluctantly passed it. “Poppa, you should have pushed harder on the wings, you don’t hardly have wings.”

“Well,” he said and glanced over at Clark, “I guess I’m not much of an angel, am I?”

Clark held onto his smile through sheer force of will.

Lex and Ripley watched Clark as he super speeded through the construction of a snowman family, momma and daddy and baby, and doggie. Ripley insisted it was an aardvark, and Lex wondered aloud if it might be a squid. Clark huffed and demanded to know how they could *not* see it was a dachshund.

Laughing, Lex swung Rip up and whirled her until she giggled helplessly and when he slipped past Clark to go into the house with her, he leaned over and quickly pressed a dry peck to his cheek. “Alexandra and I are going in to make plans for next weekend—I’d like to talk to you after,” he said.

******

After turned out to be the next morning—Ripley begged her Poppa to spend the night and help them feed the cows in the morning. Jonathan chimed in, and Lex finally agreed, but told them he would spend the night at the castle.

Clark, meanwhile, spent the rest of the night wondering what Lex meant, what he wanted to talk about. They’d gotten to be comfortable with the relationship as it was, or rather, the lack of relationship. Lex never asked him awkward questions anymore, no longer had Clark tailed on his dates—he was sure of it, he still checked every time he went out. Lex didn’t date, but Clark knew how picky and…well…*paranoid* Lex was.

Not that he *checked* to see if Lex dated. If he listened in on the penthouse the evenings he worked late in the city, or happened to sort of zip by when Lex was at some charity function or other, it was just to see that he was okay, that was all. They might not be together but he cared—Lex was after all the co-parent of his daughter. Whatever else he was, was Lex’s business.

  
He found out in the morning what Lex wanted when he presented a reasoned plan explaining why Alexandra and he should be in the city, in fact, in the penthouse.

“Lexie as we know, is a brilliant child, with enormous potential that, let’s be frank—will never be met in Smallville. The educational opportunities she’ll have in Metropolis absolutely demand that she live in the city.” He went on to say even though Clark could bring her into the city every day, was it fair to her? Not only that, her room at the penthouse was huge, and decorated to suit a little girl’s fantasies—well, more precisely, to suit Lexie’s fantasies and he blamed Clark entirely for her unseemly love of Godzilla, for the Godzilla sheets he was forced to buy, and the stuffed monster slavering through felt teeth on her bed, instead of the perfectly lovely unicorn shoved in a corner underneath it… “Besides,” he went on, “everyone knows Mothra was cooler by far.”

After the unresolved argument over which monster was cooler, Lex managed to sway Clark to his viewpoint, with a little help from Jonathan. After all, Jonathan reasoned, summers could be spent in Smallville, regardless, and weekends were a given.

Clark listened to Lex, watched his eyes as he watched Ripley and decided that he was the world’s biggest jerk. He’d been cruel and a bastard, and he needed to make amends.

He drew Lex to the side and explained that he’d had a revelation. “Lex…god, I’ve been going about this all wrong these last two years! Two whole years—I’m an asshole.”

Lex looked startled by Clark’s admission, but his eyes warmed and he said, “I don't know,Clark. Asshole seems so harsh. Perhaps.” He quirked a little half smile at him, his usual signal to show he was just kidding.

Clark smiled back, “So I’m thinking—please keep the penthouse, but how about this? We should fully share custody. I’ve thought about this, and I think it’s the right thing for us to do—maybe six months with you and six with me? I’ll find a place in the city, and R--Alexandra wouldn’t even have to change schools, or travel away from the rest of her family…” he heard the silence suddenly. It was all around him, a total absence of sound. An anti-sound, very much like being swaddled in a blanket--only not as comforting. In fact, it was more like being wrapped in a rubber sheet, he thought…Lex eyes went from warm to icy, to completely distant, twin cold-burning stars far, far away.

“I…see. I see. It’s an option many…many courts have agreed to. I.” He finally looked at Clark and nodded. “All right. Six months with you, six months with me. I think…I think I haven’t noticed how much you’ve grown, Clark. You really are your own man, aren’t you?” He turned from Clark and said quietly, “Let me keep an apartment for you and Alexandra. I want you close, but I promise, I won’t interfere in your life. I just want to be sure that Lexie’s home is…as warm as the one here. Will you let me do that?”

Clark thought. “Well, I suppose…if you let me pay you rent--”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Clark, you could never afford the rent on the apartment I have in mind. Just let me do this and think of it as something I do for my daughter—if not for you.”

Clark heard the slightest crack of the whip in the last words and swallowed. “Yes, thank you, that’s—that’s great. Lex…”

You handle your business the way you choose, Clark. If you need help…feel free to ask me.”

******

It was Alexandra’s fifth birthday and she’d wanted to spend it at the farm. After consulting briefly with Clark, Lex closed up the penthouse and opened the castle for the holiday season. Lex stayed in the castle, and Lexie split her time between the castle and the farm. She loved sleeping in Clark’s old room in the yellow farmhouse.

While the relationship he had with Jonathan was better than ever, the relationship between himself and Martha was still a bit strained, just slowly beginning to thaw.  
Still, the rift was the polar bear in their relationship. She was on Clark’s side—and of course she should be, Lex thought. A mother’s job was to defend her child. Besides, what could he say to make her understand? _* I swear I killed the biological mother of his child strictly to protect him.*?_ “I killed the egg donor. Not her mother,” he growled at himself.

He’d had Lana killed. He didn’t allow himself the luxury of pretending otherwise. He’d do it again in a minute. He knew from personal experience the woman had been shallow and overly concerned with what she felt the world and the people around her owed her. Fuck—everyone had some tragedy to deal with in life. All her whining and moaning about her parents—she’d been three fucking years old when they’d died. That couldn’t compare to watching your mother spend years slowly dying. Or trying to wrest control of your life from a father who could give Caligula lessons in how to be twisted.

He’d thought it would be enough to convince the bitch to leave the country. And--he had to admit--like an idiot, he’d expected (hoped) Clark would come running to him for comfort. When that hadn’t happened, he’d been angry and bitter but God--what *did* happen was so much better—*had* been so much better.

Fuck. The little bitch--she’d reached out her perfectly manicured little paw from the grave and crushed his happiness to crumbs anyway.

But not Lexie’s happiness. Nothing would hurt her—not her, not him. Not even Clark. The very first time he held Alexandra in his hands, he swore he would never do anything to harm her. She’d have the kind of love from him his father never saw fit to give. He’d be the kind of father she deserved; she’d have the kind of life she deserved.  
And that doofus Clark was going to help it stay that way.

a knock at the study door interrupted his thoughts,and he called out come in, expecting Enrique or Sarah. Instead, a dark blond head popped around the door and a brilliant smile lit up the room. “ Hey, Lex, her majesty and I came up to make cookies for her birthday party.” He laughed, “Well, Lexie did anyway. I was just hoping to eat a few.”

He chuckled and waved Jonathan in “Come and have a drink, I could use a friendly face right now.”

Jonathan nodded and came in, flopped on the couch. “Lexie’s serious about the cookies, she’s got Sarah roped into this.” He whispered conspiratorially, “They’re surprises for her guests, so act surprised.” He grinned as Lex handed him a cold open bottle of an import beer Jonathan had recently, reluctantly, admitted to liking very much. “Is this a working vacation, or do you plan to hang out with us and relax some?”

Lex sighed. “Clark’s coming in tomorrow, and I’ve made plans to not be here, you know? I’ve spent her last two birthdays smiling until I thought my lips would bleed. I’m really too tired to do it this year. Next year, I promise.”

Jonathan nodded and looked angry. “I tell that boy all the time he’s wasting his life…”

Lex felt weighed down, it was too much--Jonathan’s well-meaning support was about to tip him over into self-pity. “He’s not making a mistake, he knows everything you ever thought about me is true. I don’t know how or why you decided to trust me—but you’re wrong. I’m exactly what you always feared--a bad man. You’re a fool if you think that I can’t hurt your son. At least he knows it.”

Jonathan slammed the bottle on the table, slopping beer across the lacquered surface. Lex couldn’t help but wince even though he was pretty certain Jonathan was about to paste him one. It was a relief, almost, the other shoe finally dropping.

He surprised him. “Feeling sorry for yourself? Let me tell you what I know. I know you’re a man who devotes every minute he has to his child, to his business, to everyone around him, and acts as if ever he has a moment in which he’s happy, he has to suffer for it.”

Lex shook his head. No. He didn’t understand.

Jonathan grabbed him by his shoulder and yanked him around. “I know what you did.” He looked at Lex and cupped the back of his neck. He pulled Lex forward and stared at him until he met his eyes. Lex tried to step back, but Jonathan was surprisingly strong. He could only stare back into remarkably brilliant blue eyes.

“Lex, it’s only been sheer luck that I’m not standing in your shoes, okay? I understand son, and I would have done the same thing, believe me.”

Lex whispered. “I don’t think so. Not if you knew what I really did. How I did it.”

He shook his head. “Lana didn’t have an accident. We knew that from the start. But she was no Jordan. She didn’t love him that much, and you did what you had to do.”

Lex’s throat stopped working for a moment—he could only stare stupidly at Jonathan, as the full meaning of what he’d said slammed into his brain. “Don’t. For God’s sake, don’t forgive me. I can’t stand it.” Lex’s head dropped and Jonathan hugged him close.

“All I’m saying is that I understand. And that you need to understand that you’re not alone. Lexie loves you, I love you, Jor loves you.” He gently tugged Lex’s chin up with one finger. “Do I even need to tell you how much Clark loves you? He might be stupid and stubborn, but he wants you back. He’s dying to have you back.”

Lex laughed. “Yeah? He has a strange way of showing it. Every month, he’s with some new supermodel or other. Is sleeping with half the world some plan of his—or is he trying to beat my old record?” he scrubbed his face and moved out of Jonathan’s embrace. “Damn. Sorry. It’s been a rough week.”

“Lex, forget that shit. Take care of yourself. Lexie’ll be fine. Come to dinner, than go someplace nice. *Find* someone, for God’s sake. Have a good time. Get some.” His cheeks pinked a little but he looked at Lex, defying him to disagree. Jesus, Lex—have a life, why don’t you?”

Lex couldn’t help but smile. “All right. Fine. I will.” And earned himself a slap on the back and a brilliant grin.

“That’s my boy.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Welcome to the parent trap...._

  
Ripley was cleaning her room, like Gestapo Pop wanted, though for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why. No one else in her set had to clean their own rooms for god’s sake—what the hell was the point of having a maid if she had to clean her own room? She pouted and growled as she shoved clothes and books and shoes and stuff into her closet. She took a moment to imagine the look on Herr Poppa’s face if he saw this and that made her laugh at least.

The mountain of stuff knocked clothes off the rack, and she had to crawl on the floor to pick them up, and try and shove some of the mess farther back in the closet. She peered at the back wall of the closet—looked like something was scrawled there …some words and a picture….

She bent closer and saw something that looked like a…a skull? With a bone through it, dripping blood…or…no--she looked closer--it was a heart with an arrow and maybe lace, or flowers, drawn by someone with absolutely no skill—there was something written under it. She dropped to her knees, and shoved away the rest of the clothing dangling in front of the drawing, and she could read what it said now, ‘C+L’ and a date. Oh gosh—she sat abruptly. Oh gee, that had to be Dad’s drawing, no way in hell could she see Pop doing something as girly as that. She giggled at the thought. She traced it with a finger. Oh my god, it was *so* so dorky…and…kind of sweet.

Leaning closer, she could just make out a faint scrawl, as if he wasn’t certain he wanted to write down what he felt. _i carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
my heart)_ She snorted, and felt a weird sting of some strange emotion, a little anger, and a little sadness…yeah.

She sighed. Still, it was proof, wasn’t it—once Dad had loved Poppa, in a romantic way. She leaned back against the opposite wall and put her feet on the wall over either side of the heart. Once, they’d loved each other enough that Dad did this—and Poppa must not have known…or maybe, he did, and just left it there. Rather sentimental of him if that was the case…she wondered. It was a contradiction, for him. But than again, she grinned, it was the very definition of Poppa. A walking, talking set of contradictions.

Sentimentality—Pop said it was for the weak. Of course, he usually said that while hanging up that horrible construction paper and cotton ball Santa she’d made in second grade—the bald Santa with the mangy beard…she snorted again, shifted, and suddenly her foot went through the wall.

Oh crap! She broke it! She yanked her foot back, and saw with relief she hadn’t screwed up the wall, some little panel there had swung inward with the pressure, and there was something inside it—a box. She reached in and pulled it out, and inside the box was a recorder, old but in real good shape.

She set the box down and played with the little recorder and it clicked on and she heard a voice. A kid’s voice—oh gosh, no, not a kid—that was Dad’s voice….

 _*Dear Ripley,  
A lot of those baby sites say keep a journal. I guess to tell you some day how I felt about it all. Okay, so here’s how I feel. Scared shitless. That’s right, you’re grown now, so get over it. Or you’re supposed to be grown when you hear this. I think that’s the point. Any way, I’m scared. I’m afraid of what will happen*._

She sat staring at the recorder. Oh…wow…this was something recorded before she was even born. Weird. Dad told her about the name—the Ripley thing…but she’d never really thought about how young he’d been…or how sweet. Her eyes blurred for a second. Poor Dad. He sounded scared out of his mind. It was hard to be the only one of you, she had Dad, but he’d had no one like him growing up. How sad…she scrubbed the heel of her hand across her eyes and flicked the recorder back on, she had to hear the rest. She replaced the panel and fluffed up the clothes. She looked critically at it, and kicked the pile on the closet floor until it covered the heart.

She crossed the room, lifted the bedskirt, and shoved the box under it. It was a strange box, sort of ugly and heavy and it felt…weird. Greasy, cold, but not…she wondered where Dad had gotten it. It looked old, the kind of old that was way older than him and Poppa.

She snuggled into the overstuffed fuzzy fuchsia chair that was all that was left of Poppa’s latest foray into redecorating her room, and started the recorder again.

 _*Wait…stupid recorder…Dear Ripley,  
I guess if you’re listening to this, you understand that I’m gay. I hope that by now, it’s no big deal, but people being what they are, I’m not taking bets. I know you know because I would never lie to you. You’ll know everything about us, where we come from, what we are. And what we aren’t*. _

Well, they’d done a pretty good job of telling her about her heritage. Sad, she thought, the gay thing was still a big deal. She snorted, yeah, but not forever if Senator Luthor got his way.

 _*Dear Ripley,  
Okay, here’s what happened. Um…grandma and grandpa decided with Uncle Lex that the best place to be while we waited for you was Metropolis. Unh…it’s nice here, lots of sun because we’re really high up…*_

She stopped the recorder again. What? What the hell was that—Uncle Lex? He was Poppa…why was Dad calling him uncle?

 _*Dear Ripley.  
Look, you need to understand. I can—could have, I guess, nursed but…no. Just, no. I’m…I guess it would have been different on my home world—*_

Okay—no. Giant damn no. She’d listen to that one some day, say—never. She shuddered and made a face. Ew. Too much info, for god’s sake….

******

She listened to the tapes whenever she could, whenever she was sure that Poppa wouldn’t find out. For some reason, it was important that those recording belonged to her alone.

The last recording, she listened to over and over.

 _*Dear Ripley,  
Believe it or not, having you was the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me. Poppa’s a close second, but don’t tell him, trust me, it’s better this way. Now that your name is officially Alexandra, I should call you that…oh, I’ll have to finish this later—Gramma and Grandpa are here and no way am I leaving them alone in the room with Poppa*._

She sat still for a bit, tears running unheeded down her cheeks.

That had been like peeking into the past—like she’d been there with her parents through everything. Poor Dad, so alone for so long, so terrified, and poor Poppa, doing his best to handle something that no one else in the world had handled—or could have, she thought fiercely. And Uncle Jordan…no wonder Dad loved him---no wonder Poppa loved him. She sighed. And now she really knew what Dr. Toby and Dr. Chang acted like they had a right to butt in her life. Without them—she might have had no life. Wow…they were kind of like…heroes.

She sobbed. Why’d they have to be such ass-holes! They’d been so in love! They weren’t like her friend’s parents at all, the kind of people who were better off, for fuck’s sake far, far apart.  
She’d always assumed that they were like those people, but for crap’s sake—these morons had really loved each other and then threw it away. She frowned and wiped her face on her t-shirt. Poppa wouldn’t do that—Dad wouldn’t do that.

What the hell had happened?

She went back to the beginning, listened to the tapes again, looking for some clue. Eventually, she gave up in exasperation. There was no clue in the recordings, but something happened and she was going to find out what—and then, she was going to paste those idiots back together. Anybody could see they were supposed to be together. All she had to do was come up with a plan—hell, she was Lex Luthor’s daughter, if she couldn’t come up with a plan, who could? She stopped a moment and reconsidered. She was Clark Kent’s daughter too…maybe she should recruit some help?


	8. Chapter 8

Ripley decided she wasn’t going to tell either one of her parents that she’d heard the tapes. She figured Poppa didn’t know about them and she figured Dad wouldn’t want her to have listened to them yet…silly boy. He shouldn’t have hidden them in the penthouse.

Her resolve lasted one week.

“Poppa…who used to have that room I’m in now?”

Lex looked over his shoulder. “What?” He stood in front of his closet, with his suit coat halfway on the hanger. “That’s an odd thing to ask.” He looked…confused, she thought. He hung the coat up and sat in the leather barrel chair in his closet. He frowned thoughtfully, touched his chin as he did, and she unconsciously copied him. “Well, you are right, someone did have it before you. Your dad had the room—a long time ago.” He smiled wistfully, and she wanted to squeeze him. “A long time ago.”

He removed his shoes and slid in cedar shoetrees, put them n their shelf. He spent some time taking off his tie, cufflinks, putting everything oh so carefully back in its place…fine. She was just as patient as…as…she was very patient. She could wait.

He slipped on a pair of house shoes and she followed him out of the closet. Just as she was about to prod him again, he said, “Why do you ask, sweetheart?”

“I found a recorder in the closet--”

“Oh!” He sounded so surprised that Ripley stopped. She glanced and saw—he was surprised she *found* them, not surprised they were there. Well, it wasn’t as if they were cleverly hidden….

“You knew about the tapes?” she asked and he blushed a Poppa blush, two little spots on his cheeks and his ears turned pinker—somebody had been snooping.

He only nodded and turned her towards the dining room with a warm hand on her shoulder. The table was set, and covered dishes were waiting. During the week it was all formal, at the dining room table, linens and silverware and china---she kind of preferred weekends, junk food at the bar in the kitchen and the staff off, just the two of them to eat what ever she wanted and talk about whatever she wanted--anything but work.

They sat, and Ripley watched Poppa scrutinize his dish for…attackers, assassins, who knew. He decided it was safe and began to eat, and she did too. He was so different than Dad—Dad loved to eat, and greeted food like a dear friend. Poppa ate to live, and seemed to find her enjoyment of a meal all the spice he needed.

“Poppa, can I ask, what happened? You-–he seemed to be so much in love.”

“No. You may not.”

She sat back, shocked. Poppa never did that. He always explained first—or explained as he refused. He looked…angry. “Why not?” burst out of her mouth. Damn!

“Because I said so,” he answered and pushed his chair back. He stood and walked out of the room.

She stared after him, mouth open. Who was that? Who the heck was *that* guy? Oh no—he wasn’t getting away with that! She jumped up and threw her napkin on her plate, dashed after him.

He was standing in front of a bookshelf in his office; arms crossed and to all appearances, deeply absorbed in the books there.

“Poppa…Tell me what happened, please.” She swallowed hard, begged forgiveness for what she was about to do and asked him, “Was it because he’s alien? Like me? Did you fall out of love with him because of that?”

He turned to her, and the look on his face—for a thousand years; she’d have to work to forget it….

“No—God no, never. I love you--not in spite of the fact, it’s a part of you I love, and a part of him—I never stopped loving.” and Rip kind of knew he wasn’t talking to her. Again, she wanted to beat herself but, *all’s fair* she told herself, *the ends justify the means*, she tried to tell herself.

“Than…why did you leave him?”

He pulled himself together. “That’s not your concern.”

She crossed the room, suddenly a million miles of oriental carpet. She gripped his sleeve, yanked on it. “Tell me. You always want the truth from me, don’t I deserve the same?”

“You’re twelve,” he said quietly, “I decide what you need to know.”

“Daddy will tell me if I ask.” She gave him his own look back, green eyes locked on his. _*You want twelve, I’ll act like twelve*_ , she thought. Poppa was staring down at her, face blank and eyes like a thunderstorm.

“I don’t think so.” He moved back slowly, so that his sleeve eased out of her fingers, and she couldn’t bring herself to hang on—what if he snatched his arm away? She knew she was pushing him, harder than ever before, pushing into areas that she was beginning to feel were dangerous, but she had to know—especially now—she had to know.

“If he did…” and she hadn’t planned for her voice to come out in a whisper….

He looked at her, and a stranger might have interpreted his expression as cold disinterest. “Than that would be his right. I wouldn’t…interfere.”

She breathed deeply, and leaped off the edge. “So-oo…it was something that *you* did.” His chin jerked up a fraction and he smiled, a cold twitch that only went as far as the corners of his mouth. She pushed on. “It’s obvious, you know, it’s the look, the look you get when you blame yourself,” she said, in the lecture mode she’d learned from him. “Like the time I broke that hideous vase at the Gold’s luncheon. Which by the way was *so* totally a fake.”

His eyes warmed, but he said, “If I’d been paying the proper attention it never would have happened. And the fact that the vase was so poor a copy a ten year old could see it has no bearing on the matter.”

She shook her head. “I’m exceptional. Tell me. I want to know.”

He moved to the curtains framing a hell of an expensive view of Metropolis. He crossed his hands behind his ramrod straight back. “Do you?” he said gently. Maybe you should know. You’re a very mature young woman.” He turned back to her and his face was so blank it frightened her—she couldn’t read him at all.

“All right, but you need to understand everything, you need to know how you were conceived. Or I should say how we think you were…”

*Oh yuck, no* She made a face. “I’ve already had the birds and bees lecture, thankyouverymuch.” Ha. She was making headway—she threw herself back on the huge club chair that was his favorite.

“As it pertains to humans, yes.” He held up a hand in a stilling motion and paged Dr. Chang. “It’s a little different for your dad—your birth-father.” He refused to say more until Dr. Chang arrived.

She waited with as much patience as she could muster. This was good—they were getting to the real business now.

******  
“That, you see, that’s how your father conceived, and gave birth. To you.” He beamed at her and patted her hand, and she was sure he didn’t see that she was a little pale and queasy. “As for you, my dear, we can assume that the process will be earth-normal. We are ninety-nine per cent positive. Yes.” He beamed at her as he bustled about, packing up charts and diagrams that Rip refused to look at again. He hugged her quickly and trotted out of the room, passing Lex on his way back into the office. “Don’t forget, Lex—you have a physical coming up very soon. Remind him, my dear,” and he was off to the lab again.

“Poppa, that was informative in a traumatizing way,” she said, expecting him to smile.

He looked at her without an answering trace of humor, and said, “Ask your question if you like.”

Just like that, the desire was gone. She didn’t want to ask. It was bad; it had to be bad…she felt like a little kid, in bed at night in the dark and waiting for the monster under her bed to snatch her away. “What. Happened, Poppa?”

“Dr. Chang told you that an egg donor contributed to your conception. That’s what he knows. The donor was someone your father knew.”

“Who? Do I know her?” She felt a wave of ice sweep over her—who—

“She’s dead. She never knew about you.”

She narrowed her eyes at her father. “We’re off track—or are we?”

“She’s dead because of me,” he said, and looked as if he’d been run through for a moment, and then she could see him pulling himself together bit by bit.

“You--” She stopped and looked at him, really looked and she didn’t know this man, this man was…frightening.

“Your father left because I killed her. She was…dangerous, untrustworthy. She would have been a danger--”

“You killed her! Oh my god, you killed someone.” Her mother…she felt like she was being gutted, like someone was trying to pull her heart out. Poppa. No. This was all wrong. He couldn’t. Wouldn’t.

His cheek jerked and it was supposed to be a smile, it came from a million miles away, and—and it hurt so much. Tears flooded her eyes. He took a step forward and she jerked back. Away.

He made a soft noise and stopped. Put his hands in his pocket. “I’ll call your father.”

She nodded and went to sit in the foyer. He came back, hovered near her, not touching, not speaking, just waited until Daddy came. It was only a few minutes before Daddy was there, and he picked her up and hugged her, and held her head in his hands.

Poppa said, “I had to. She wanted…she needed to know. She asked me.”

“Lex…Lex. I never would have. You know.”

“Be a good girl for your father, sweetheart.”

Daddy picked her up and ran fast—faster than anything and they were home—her other home, with all her stuff around her, and the blanket Grandma made and. She was asleep in her bed in seconds and she heard voices and thought Daddy’s friend is here? Darkness swallowed her and she was happy to fall.

*****

“Lex, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, but you shouldn’t have—“

 _*What was I supposed to do? Someday she’d know. Who better than from me?*_

“But she’s just a kid—she’ll never understand. She doesn’t know…”

 _*Clark, age is no indicator—she could have been grown, a mother—the reaction would have been the same. She’s her father’s daughter, thank god. She’s a good person, a decent person. I can’t teach her that. And now, I can’t be anything to her—she needs her father.*_

“You—you’re still a jerk, Lex! You’re still such an asshole!

 _*I know Clark. I know.*_

“No, that’s not what I mean, I mean—oh shit. She’ll be back. I promise you, she’ll be back in a day or two. She loves you. She loves you so much—and you deserve it. You’re a wonderful father.”

 _*I’m not. *_

“You are, you are her father, her best friend, and she loves you like—like crazy—don’t turn away.”

 _*Clark—I can’t talk any more. I’ll call tomorrow._ *

“Don’t worry. Please. Don’t worry. It’ll be better--” Clark listened to the dial tone for a long minute, before going into lay down with Rip.”

******  
“Dad said she wasn’t a good person. He said you did what you had to. He said you did it to protect us. I’m thinking about it. I know you. You wouldn’t do something to hurt us.”

 _*Whatever you decide. But I’d like it…if you came back. I love you._ *

“I know. I mean, I really do know that. Bye.”

******  
She stared up at the stars they’d never gotten around to peeling off the ceiling. Her shoes were in a corner; there was a bag of takeout on her nightstand. A movie played to the audience of a stuffed monster and a huge ratty unicorn on her bed. She was on the floor, thinking.

Okay. She got why Dad left. He was a deeply…black and white person. Things were good, or they were bad. Poppa was a deeply…gray person. There were circumstances, and situations and events and actions that all had to be weighed and examined before a decision could be made…once you made it though, it was imperative to act on it—it was duty. Yeah, that was Poppa—duty. Daddy too…just…different.

She got up and padded over to her bedroom door and down the hallway to Dad’s studio. He was working on the book. Pictures were tacked all over the wall—people from all over the country, doing everyday things…her favorite, a pudgy old lady with a beehive hairdo and a homemade angel pin stuck on her uniform--a waitress-- smiled into the camera. Her squinty eyes glowed behind her ugly glasses and Rip though she was really…nice looking, friendly. Like you’d want to have her wait on you because she’d be nice and treat you like family.

There were tons of other pictures, fireman and construction workers, linemen and cooks, just people that dad interviewed, and wrote about. Everyday people. She watched for a while, watched him typing and frowning, listened to the weird little noises he didn’t know he made. After a while, she went back to her room.

In the morning, Dad made eggs and bacon and pancakes, and she knew they’d taste just like Grandma’s. Dad was a good cook. He was a good housecleaner too, because Grandma had made sure of that. He wasn’t an everything in its place guy like Pop, there was personal stuff dropped here and there and he never used the coat closet but it was clean and comfortable.  
Poppa would have a fit. She grinned a little, sighed.

Dad set her plate in front of her with a kiss, and poured himself a mug of coffee and gulped it, burning hot, right down. He poured another mug and checked out the fridge, making a grocery list as he chatted about what he had to do that day, and his latest himbo. Not that she’d ever say it out loud. But Dad had suck taste in guys.

“Dad…Dad!”

“Hunh?” He turned to her and smiled. “What is it, Rip?”

She told Dad she wanted to go back. She needed to go back. He looked relieved, and really happy.

“Oh good, that’s great—not for me. It’s just…he does really need you. I’m so glad you…you made up your mind.”

“I’m not the only one he needs.”

Dad looked so sad. “Oh, I don’t think…” He blocked her view of his face with the mug. “Once maybe, but not anymore. It’s been a long time. I was just a kid then, I’m different now. Not the kind of person he’d want…anyway, let’s call him and let him know you want to come home. But…But not today, hunh? I’ll take you to school and after—we can see a movie, maybe?” He looked hopeful, his eyebrows climbed to his hairline. He swept back the wild strands of hair that always seemed to stick out one way or another. He must make his stylist cry, she thought. She tilted her head and stared at him, watching his face. He gave her a sweet little smile, and she closed her eyes and concentrated. He asked quietly, “What do you hear?”

She said, “I hear the fridge, and the stove cooling…I hear your heart. And…your tummy,” she grinned and he chuckled.

“What else?”

“The elevator door is opening in the lobby…Oh…ooooo. I think I hear the neighbors being naughty--” she lied.

“That’s enough!” he yelped and clapped his huge hands over her ears. She grinned, her eyes crinkling and her nose wrinkling a bit, and Dad got a soft look on his face. Sure. She knew she looked like Poppa when she smiled. She sighed to herself. Idiots. Poor dumb idiots.


	9. Chapter 9

Clark stood with Ripley outside of the penthouse doors waiting for Lex. He glanced down at his daughter, and she was staring straight ahead, her jaw clenched a little. He recognized the look. She glared at the bright pink and green backpack hanging from his shoulder and snorted slightly. He twitched his eyebrows at her and they grinned at each other--until the lock clicked.

The door opened soundlessly, and Lex was there, lean and handsome in a dark red sweater—maroon or burgundy or something he probably had a fancy name for--and black trousers. Clark had to put his free hand in his pocket, to keep from reaching out to touch the sweater. He stifled a smile—yeah. How much Lex would like that? Invulnerable or not, he wouldn’t bet on *not* losing his hand….

Lex was still waiting at the open door, his eyes were gleaming, and Clark wasn’t sure what he was thinking—and that felt odd. He hadn’t wondered what Lex was thinking in a long, long time. His expression was still, expectant, but he didn’t speak to Clark or Ripley. He just stood to one side and gestured for them to come in. Like vampires, Clark thought. Enter freely and of your own will. He glanced at Lex. Hell, this probably did have some near ritual significance to Lex. Everything had significance, in his world.

  
Ripley grabbed her backpack from Clark, simply walked past Lex and headed toward her room after tossing him a hello, and Lex answered her in a casual way. “If you’re hungry, there’s a plate warmed for you in the kitchen.”

“Okay, thanks Pop,” she said, and headed down the hall to her bedroom.

Clark felt on the verge of…something…crying, yelling, some damn thing…and stared at the back of Lex’s head. He burst out, “God, I wish I could be as cool and level-headed as you.” He didn’t mean for there to be a note of censure in his voice—but he heard it and of course Lex had to have heard it and he turned to look at him with a little smile.

“Really?”

Clark stepped back. Lex looked—Lex looked awful. Clark looked past the cheery sweater, the knife-sharp creases in his sinfully soft looking pants, ignored the scent of cologne and…him—and shit. He looked hollowed out.

“God, Lex. Don’t let her see you looking like this,” Clark whispered. He pulled Lex into the kitchen and forced him to take a seat at the island. He looked in the fridge—odds were he hadn’t eaten since Rip left. Or slept.

He rummaged about in the fridge, looking for normal food, “Wow—do you have like—everything in here?” He smiled a little when he heard a low chuckle behind him. He threw together a sandwich for Lex, hoped he’d eat at least half of it and forced a glass of juice on him, and checked to make sure he drank it all while he made coffee. Coffee was good for everything.

Clark set a mug of coffee, heavy on cream and sugar, in front of him, and was gratified to see a bit of color come back to him as he drank. Lex set the mug down, and frowned before wrapping his fingers around it and just…holding it. Letting his hands get warm, Clark knew. Stress made Lex’s hands cold. He remembered that. “Is there…someone I can call?” he asked. Knowing there wasn’t and a gentle snort told him Lex knew he knew.

Lex drank a bit more and then, exhaled, a long low breath. “Jordan’s coming tomorrow. The team’s back in town.” He sipped at the steaming mug. “He calls from time to time—keeping tabs on me.” he smiled a little lopsidedly at Clark.

Clark felt a quick icy jab under his ribcage. “Oh—that’s…great. I’m glad. Jordan’s always been a good friend. I—I don’t hear from him as much as I’d like.”

“Oh? You should call, you know. But yes, he’s a good friend.” Lex murmured as he poked at the sandwich

“Yeah. Yeah, well, I’m—I’ve got to go now. I’ll call you—to see how you are.” Clark felt reluctant to leave; Lex had eaten less than half of the sandwich. “Oh—how could I forget! Ri—Lexie is developing a power. Already. Much younger than me.” He knew he sounded proud of her, and felt just a bit silly.

Lex looked up sharply, his eyes bright as twin gray lasers. “She is?”

Clark nodded. “Hearing. She can hear nearly as far as I can. It’s so amazing,” Clark beamed and Lex agreed, watching him so closely as he nibbled that Clark began to feel suddenly awkward sitting at the table that used to be theirs. All comfort that he’d felt feeding Lex bled away, he felt like an intruder. There was nothing of him left in the apartment. Nothing for him. He should leave, now. “Tell Lexie I’ll pick her up next week. Or...do you want to bring her?”

Lex’s eyebrows rose. “No, you can come here to get her or if you like, you can pick her up at school.”

Clark nodded and was angry to feel a blush heating his cheeks. “Right, right.” The last time Lex had been at Clark’s was when he handed him the key.

Lex looked up from his coffee and smiled, and it was warm, pretty much free of any meaning except—being nice. “Lexie tells me the book is coming along just great. I’m glad to hear that. I’m glad you’re stretching. That job at the Planet—you weren’t’ suited for that. You didn’t enjoy it.”

“Yeah, it’s—this is different. More personal, I like getting out and talking to people—finding out about their lives, what makes them tick—what’s important to them,” he said enthusiastically. “The next one is about heroes, you know, cops and paramedics and firemen, and…ah, well, I’m just babbling and it’s getting late, and I’ve got work waiting, sorry.”

“Of course. Clark…thank you. For more than just dinner. And good luck on the book. It’s going to be excellent, I’m sure.”

Clark excused himself, and left quickly. He dashed down to the parking garage. Seconds later, he was pulling out of the parking space that was his—kept for him, even though it got almost zero use. Nine years, and a parking space was always waiting for him. He frowned and shook his head, and drove away.

*****  
Lex sat alone in the kitchen, sipping the cooling, too milky, and overly sweet coffee. A few years ago, he’d stopped using sugar and cream but Clark didn’t know that. No reason he should.

“Alexandra,” he whispered, “please come here now.”

The silence in the apartment went unbroken, and then…the squeak of a door, and there she was, standing at the table.

“Yes?”

“Eavesdropping is rude and unladylike and beneath a Luthor.” He hesitated and stood, walked around the table until he was looking down into her ocean green eyes. He looked as stern as possible, and said, “A Kent-Luthor.”

She dropped her head. “I know. I’m sorry. I really am.”

One of the good things about being a Luthor, he thought, was being able to decipher what was behind the spoken word. He almost felt faint with relief. “Sweetheart…”

“Pop, all I need to know is that I love you and daddy. That’s all I care about.”

He nodded, his eyes red. “I imagine this is the part were we hug. Should we hug now?”

“Oh, definitely!” She threw herself in his arms, and even though Poppa wasn’t quite as cuddly as Daddy, it was still one of her favorite feelings—Pop’s arms around her. He squeezed her, lifting her a little from her feet. She felt safe, and loved and that was all that was going to matter to her. No more questions, no more wondering…except how Uncle Jordan worked in the picture…but this time she was going after Doc Toby.

******

She staggered into the apartment, ridiculously glad that Poppa wasn’t there. What the hell—being a Kryptonian-Earthling was fucked up! How many damn people were her parents—why the hell didn’t Dr. Chang tell her that it took four people to make her! Thank God Daddy wasn’t the same back then as now…she shuddered. What kind of weird biology kept stacking DNA up like Legos?

She ran to her bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. Curly red hair…green eyes…a sprinkle of bronze freckles on caramel skin…Uncle Jordan. Right there, in her skin, and her eyes, the shape of her eyes. Oh man. She didn’t even want to know what else was shaping her. Thank goodness she was mild and shy like Daddy. She’d hate to be all over-bearing and ‘I know what’s good for you—and the world’ like Poppa.

She slumped against the sink. Crap. Uncle Jordan—what should she call him? Call him…crap. Her head ached, her eyes burned. She rubbed them and rubbed them. Ick. They felt gritty yet sticky. She peered at herself again. And they were all red. Great. She looked like she’d been on a crying jag, even her nose was red.

Maybe she had allergies…was it possible? Maybe she wasn’t completely like Dad in that respect. She hadn’t cut or scraped herself in years, not that she was about to test herself like Dad did—even if there’d been a wood chipper handy. She grimaced. That had been kind of a funny story the way Grandpa told it—now that she was older, she was getting that it wasn’t quite as funny as she used to think.

She idly sharpened her hearing, looking for Pop…there he was, next floor up at work, being over-bearing. Fine. That meant she had a few hours before he came home.

She sighed. It was hard to *not* use her ability. How did Daddy do it—and he had all these incredible abilities, so much he could do. Why didn’t he use them?

She splashed a little cool water over her face and blotted dry, and strolled to the media room.

Poppa could help him use them; he could keep Dad from wasting his abilities, if he wasn’t such a stiff neck. It was great he was writing the book and all, but really…

  
She flipped through the DVD case, alphabetized, separated by genre…exactly like Dad did, Poppa tended to file stuff like this by size, or color. She sucked her teeth in annoyed horror. How anyone could be so anal about their clothes and shoes and jewelry and not anything else—was mind boggling, it really was. She frowned at the movies she kept in perfect order, selected one to watch with Poppa after dinner, and *listened* for Pop to come home. One million and one. That was secret one million and one.

******

* _I’m coming home now—spaghetti for dinner? Or take out?*_

“Spaghetti!” It ‘was so funny and cute to watch him cook. He was so serious about it. She grinned. The staff had all left, it was getting dark, so she turned on the foyer light, and the kitchen light. She pulled a pot out, and got the pasta from the pantry, salad greens from the fridge. At Dad’s, they had super fresh veggies all summer. Dad would zip to Smallville and Grandmom would load him down…she shook her head. Super human and he used it to get fresh vegetables. Shame.

******  
She sat at the kitchen and watched Poppa measure out water to cook the spaghetti like he was conducting an experiment. His sleeves were carefully folded back to his elbows; his tie was hanging out of a back pocket. His suit jacket was on the back of her chair, and she had her chin propped up on his briefcase.

“Pop, do you want me to cut up the onions and peppers?”

“Thank you, Lexi,” he said with an air of grave concentration. He measured out an amount of pasta and slipped it into the boiling water and she pushed a stool to the counter and grabbed a knife before sitting at the marble counter. He glanced over, and started to say something, closed his mouth. She grinned.

“Secret number five thousand and one,” she said, and he smiled.

After dinner, they sat together and watched the movie, and Poppa kept glancing at her, puzzled.

“Poppa, don’t try to make sense of it---just enjoy it.”

“Sweetheart, the only thing this movie has to recommend it is Van Dien…and the giant bugs are interesting…are you sure you should be watching this? And when did I buy this?”

She coughed and blushed and kept silent.

After the movie, he had a little work to do, which he did on the couch, the sound down on the TV, laptop propped on his legs. His feet were tucked under him, and she sat next to him, curled into his side, reading a book. Around ten, she leaned up to kiss him goodnight. He looked surprised to find that the time had passed so swiftly. He shifted the laptop and hugged her. Before she left the room, he asked, very casually and eyes fixed on the screen “How’s Dad doing?”

She sighed. Right. “He’s fine, Poppa. He wishes you would call.”

“Did he say that?”

“No. But I can tell he wants to.”

Lex snorted gently. “Good night, sweetheart.”

She went to her room, and turned down her bed. She was about to brush her teeth when she heard the phone ring. She glanced at her clock. Ten thirty. It was Uncle Jordan. She knew because Poppa laughed, and only Uncle Jordan made him laugh out loud.

She smiled. They were cute together. Sometimes she even thought they’d be a cute couple. Even Dad must think so, she thought. Or he wouldn’t ask about them so often lately. And she was totally not above using that. She rinsed and ran back to her bed. She lay back, grabbed her book and planted her feet on the wall. Yeah. She could totally make that work….


	10. Chapter 10

Uncle Jordan picked her up the Saturday before Dad’s week began.

They went to the park, to watch people and most importantly, to eat ice cream. And hot dogs. And chips in those little paper trays, the kind they covered with lukewarm fake cheese. And soda, in the giant huge take out cups she wasn’t allowed at home.

Jordan watched her and shivered. “How can you eat that crap without throwing it right back up? And so much of it. Shi—shoot, you’re like your dad, a walking appetite. With no taste.”

She grinned at him and chewed through the bottom of her waffle cone, sucked melted ice cream nosily. “Ooo, look, UncaJor, they have cinnamon pretzels! I love them!”

“Good thing I’m rich,” Jordan muttered, and reached for his wallet. Again.

She swallowed her last bite of ice cream cone, and very casually asked, “So, UncaJor, what’s the deal with you and Pop? You call him like, every night—are you guys dating?”

Jordan jerked to such an abrupt stop that Ripley had to do a little two-step behind him, to keep from running into his back. “What the hell—girl, are you crazy?” He looked shocked, and—something else. “Your dad would kill me. Shi—dang.”

She laughed, and he groused, “Do you get this tendency towards asking really personal questions from your Pop?”

She shrugged. “ Well, that’s just as likely to come from you. And this pretty color too,” she said matter of factly.

Jordan paled, and stuttered, “Well, um...we’re not really, really---shit, you must be trying to kill me today,” he muttered.

“You’re not really my uncle—I know. And you’re more than a family friend. And you know that. Don’t you?” She folded her arms, tilted her head up to look him in the eye. “Pop explained everything to me a while ago. Really secret secret, two billion and one.”

“Hunh?” He said weakly.

“It’s this thing Poppa told me a long time ago, that I’d have to keep a bazillion secrets, that I had so many to keep I needed to start out knowing, and grow up with them. I mean, can you imagine having a billion secrets suddenly dumped in your lap all at once?

“Oh, yeah. Your dad had everything dropped on him all at once…I can see where this is better, but….”

She patted his hand “Hey, it’s so cool isn’t it, you being kind of a—a--co-dad, as far as Pop’s crew of captive scientists can figure. We’re just one big happy family, right?”

Jordan snorted, a cross between a frown and a smile flitting over his lips, worry still wrinkling his brow. She touched his hand again, smiling at him and he hugged her hard.

“I didn’t know until a few years ago, when Lex—your pop--decided I needed to know. Didn’t matter, I always loved you, y’know? I used to listen to you, when your dad thought I didn’t know.” He pulled back and rubbed his face. “ It was…pretty fuckin’ weird at first, ‘scuse me, sweetie but yeah. I was in love with him, and then, I was in love with you.”

She stared at him, tears blurring her view. “Did you—weren’t you afraid? Grossed out?”

“Your dad…” He shook his head. “Some day, you’re going to meet someone who’s gonna be the most important person in the world to you, and if they have a good soul, nothing they do, or are, will frighten you.”

“I love you, Uncle Jordan.”

“Of course, you do.” He stood, “Time to walk off some of that –that--*stuff* you ate. Damn you can eat! It’s some scary how much you can pack away. C’mon, girl—run!”

He jogged off, and she made sure she didn’t catch him right away.

******

Ripley peeked out of the school doors and yes, there he was, with that awful red monster of a Ford truck, huge and ugly and older than her—it was rumbling and snorting in a line of sleek, purring Mercedes and BMW’s, and how embarrassing was that? No one drove a hulking ugly second-hand farm truck…except Dad. Besides, he didn’t have to pick her up; she was old enough to take a cab by herself to the apartment. It was awful. It was horribly embarrassing. Oh god, now he was beeping and waving and he had that dorky big grin. Oh craaaaap--he was getting out of the truck….

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed the ninth grade girls were giggling and running into each other trying to look at Dad. They were acting like some movie star had just pulled up the school. She gave Dad a hard look. Okay, he wasn’t ugly...not handsome like Poppa but yeah…he was kind of cute. Maybe. Sort of. He could use a haircut. She shouldered her bag and took one step out the doors and her phone rang. Of course.

She fished it out of the bottom of her bag. “Hello Poppa.”

 _*I’m certain I explained to those people that you were to be allowed to carry your phone at all times. I don’t care what their ridiculous policy is—especially in regard to you, you’re a Luthor.*_

“Poppa. You *are* aware that you just implied—no—*stated*--that the rules don’t apply to us?”

 _*Yes? We’re Luthors._ *

Sigh. “Kent-Luthor, Poppa, *Kent*-Luthor. And Dad’s here, I have to go.”

* _Kent-Luthor, yes, I know. And I see he has the decency to be on time, for once._ *

 _He’s always on time,_ Lexie thought, but saved herself the argument. Poppa considered being a nano-second past the appointed time being late. She pitied his employees.

 _*And tell him I told him to stop calling you Ripley. It’s awful and childish._ *

“How did you know—I mean—he does not!”

 _*He does, and I know because I called you Ripley twice last night and you didn’t react—it’s such a terrible name._ *

“It’s funny and besides, Ripley was the hero, not the alien.”

 _*Lexie. Don’t say that._ *

“Do you want me to pretend I’m not—that? I don’t have a problem with it, and I was under the impression you didn’t either--”

Poppa sighed deeply, heavily _*Alexandra. It has nothing to do with that at all…_ * His voice faded away, sounding tired and sad, and she felt bad for making him feel that way, even if she didn’t understand how.

“Pop…”

 _*Daddy’s waiting for you, Lexie. I’ll talk to you later. Behave please._ *

“I promise. I love you.”

 _*I love you more than anything in the world and most stuff outside of it. We’ll celebrate your birthday when you come home, just you and me, okay? Thirteen—where has the time gone—all right, now I sound like an old fart. Bye, sweetheart. Love you._ *

  
She grinned as he hung up, and then Dad was there, giant and warm and hugging her like he hadn’t seen here in years instead of weeks, and talked to her nearly everyday. She stepped back and looked up at him, his red cheeks and green eyes, his shaggy hair. He still had a lot of that kid in him, she thought. That dorky guy that wrote love notes to his crush, and hid it in the closet. She snorted. “Nothing,” she said, when Dad cocked an eyebrow at her. He grinned and threw an arm around her.

“Come on Rip, Anna’s got hot chocolate and cookies waiting at home. And that’s totally a bribe to like me best.”

Her eyes lit up at the thought, but she felt she had to make at least a token protest. “Dad, that only makes me like the cook best. And besides, you know what Poppa says. Empty calories are bad.”

“Yes, but he’s no fun and what he says is stupid.”

“Dad!” she whacked him in the ribs and he coughed and bent. She was the only one who could whack him hard enough to make him wheeze--it always made him laugh.

‘Well, it’s true…no, no, it’s not. I’m just being a bitter old ex. Don’t pay attention to me.”

“As if.” She hopped into the truck. There was a guy sitting in it, but he had sense enough to be sitting on the bench seat in the back. A new boyfriend, she guessed. He was cute enough but she could smell that he wasn’t going to be around longer than a minute.

‘Hi, you must be Alexandra,” he said, “My name is--”

“Don’t bother,” she said and stared out the window, and Dad blushed. “Please don’t be rude, Alexandra.”

She huffed and stared at the streets rolling by, watched kids walking with each other or their parents. She glared at them as they went by. Stupid normals. Stupid dads.

Dad begged her to behave because he felt guilty demanding it, Poppa expected her to behave and made her feel guilty if she didn’t. They were both pains in her ass. Butt. Whatever. She sighed. Oh well. She glanced back at the guy in the backseat, and wondered if he’d be coming to dinner. That would be…not what she wanted, but she’d promised to behave—twice now. She glanced at Dad quickly, he was concentrating on driving, and she glanced back again at the sucker. She bared her teeth and he looked startled. She smiled sweetly at him and he looked confused.

Dad and his bimboyfriends.

Rip had a theory about that. She figured Dad picked guys who were pretty but not over-burdened with smarts because number one, he didn’t want them smart enough to get hurt by being dumped and number two—he didn’t want any of them to remind him of Poppa. People seemed to kind of expect him to go out with eye candy; they tended to think of him as eye candy himself…most people underestimated him. Dad said it hurt him when he was with Poppa, but now, he used it to his advantage. Rip smiled. He’d learned a lot from Poppa.

***  
To no one’s surprise except maybe nameless guy, he was gone before the week was out. Oh well. Another one gone with the wind, and there’d be another after that, and after that, until he finally admitted to himself he didn’t want anyone except her pop. Poor old Dad. He was hurting so much. She reached over and patted his knee, and he smiled at her, and ruffled her hair.

They were watching a personal favorite of Ripley’s, The Parent Trap, the old one, not the new one. Dad rolled his eyes every time, and teased her all the way through it, but she could tell he liked it as much as she did. That was one of the cool things about him. He liked a lot of the same things she did, movies and TV and stuff, and not in that kind of arch ironic way Poppa did, or that kind of desperate ‘I’m still cool’ way some adults had--Dad just…liked it.

They laughed at Haley playing twins and grinned at each other, though Dad had to do it around a mouthful of popcorn smushed in his teeth, because he was a cornball.

“Ah, ha, so very funny. Blaaaarh,” she stuck out her tongue, covered with a soggy wad of chewed up popcorn, and Dad made a face.

“Gross—whose kid are you?”

‘My parents are world famous, one’s a bald billionaire, and one’s an alien. And one’s a basket-ball star.” She waited, trying to look casual while she waited to see what the effect of her words would be on Dad.

He coughed, choked—in fact, choked so hard, that if he’d been human, she would have been worried.

“What! I mean—what? I mean—that would make three parents, hah…”

“Dad, please, remember—the tapes, the whole truth? Not hiding stuff from me—remember?” She’d told him that she’d found the tapes. He’d looked a little sad and said that he’d planned on giving them to her, much, much later but…did it help, he asked and she assured him that they’d helped a lot. He looked at her so sadly that she couldn’t bring herself to ask the million questions that begged to be asked.

“Stupid tapes,” he grumbled. “You should have heard them when you were grown, with kids of your own.”

He grumbled on and Rip grinned. _*Nice way to try and change the subject, Dad*._ Besides, those tapes—with all the weird crap in her life, those sweet, dumb, sad and wonderful tapes--helped to keep her anchored sometimes.

“Look poppa says that I need to know everything about me, that I need to understand as much as possible to keep safe--all the stuff about me—us. It’s about family and Uncle Jor is family. It’s just that he’s closer than I thought, is all.”

Dad looked at her like she had grown a second head.

“What?”

“There’s no way you can be that casual about it…” he looked stunned. “Lex had no right to tell you that, not without…”

“I’ve had lots of time to think it through. And he does have every right—he’s my pop and he loves me just as much as you do. He’s with me every step of the way, Dad. Just like you are.”

“I—I—Jordan was a wonderful help to me when I needed it. He was a good friend to me. I didn’t know…you know. What happened. How. Not really.” He blushed red, and Rip’s heart warmed. He was so cute….

“I guess when we--”

She interrupted quickly. There would be no Discovery Channel conversation here, not if she could help it. “No need to go on, oh father, Poppa explained more than I ever wanted to know about alien biology…and so did Dr. Toby…and Dr. Chang…” She shivered. “God—I thought for a minute he was going to tell me the story of life through interpretive dance.”

Dad snorted and relaxed a bit. “Yeah, he is kind of intense, hunh?”

“Don’t worry about Uncle Jor, Dad. We’re family. We’re just weird and unusual family. He loves us.” She glanced at him and turned her attention to the movie. Very casually she mentioned, “And I think it’s so nice of him, the way he makes Poppa take a break from time to time.”

Clark stiffened and glared at the set and just as casually, said, “Oh?” And crammed a handful of popcorn in his mouth. “Mufeally? Fow nife?”

“Oh, he’s been really…swell. He takes Poppa out to dinner and lots of time he brings dinner to us. Isn’t that sweet?”

“He—he--Oh yeah, sweet, really sweet, and be sure you *tell* him *I* think it’s really sweet.”

Riley lay back against the couch cushions. Wow, she had no idea Dad could look so angry—gee, even dangerous.

She really hoped she hadn’t screwed up…maybe she should warn Unc Jor?

Dad muttered darkly. “Dinner, hunh?”

******

The next few weeks Dad piled up papers and magazines in the apartment, obsessively checking for photos of Poppa and oh gosh, occasionally, Uncle Jor would be in the picture with him and those nights, they had burned lasagna and take out. He began talking about Poppa in a way he hadn’t for a long time, and she congratulated herself, and wondered why she hadn’t thought about this before….

The day that there was a really nice photo of Poppa, hand spread wide on Uncle Jordan’s chest and a huge, a ‘really, really, great big, showing every sparkling tooth’ huge grin on his face, Dad spent a lot of time apologizing for the small flash fire, and they went shopping for curtains and a new coffee table and a new TV and some fire extinguishers.

Her plan was rolling right along. One thing though. She *really* better warn Uncle Jordan.

*****

 _*Girl, I’m going to tell you one time—He. Will. Kill. Me. Tell him there ain’t no such thing, you hear?*_

“But Uncle Jooordan--it’s working! All he can talk about is Poppa---and he’s hardly gone out with anyone else!”

* _Alexandra Janine Kent-Luthor! Do you *want* them to bond over my body?*_ There was silence on the line and Jordan squawked, “Alexandra---Rip!”

“No, no, of course not. I’ll tell him it’s a mistake. Sorry.”

* _No you’re not.*_ He hung up.

She folded her arms and glared at the phone. “Oh yes I am. You have no idea how sorry.” She headed into the library. “I still say it would have worked.”


	11. The Talented Miss Ripley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> art by Laurab1

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

She was in class, idly looking around the room, not really paying attention to the reading, not even pretending to take notes. She’d memorized the books in the first day or two of school, so it was pretty much all review to her. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. Her eyes felt gluey and sticky; she rubbed at them, grinding the lids into her eyes. They’d been feeling like that on and off for a few weeks. Annoying.

She glanced over at Greg in the third row, Greg—who just might be the *perfect* man. She took inventory—eyes so blue they looked like the sky, hair the exact color of gold, and curly in a way that begged to be wrapped around a finger, and so cute the way it lay on his neck and---oh. Oh jeez…all his skin was off.

She managed not to move, or make a sound. Greg’s skin reappeared…and vanished. *And* his muscles, *and* his guts, until nothing was left but his skeleton—and behind him the wall, the sheetrock, the studs, the wiring…it all disappeared—or rather thinned out to the point of transparency. Her classroom was populated with busy skeletons.

She didn’t even need to look around to know that she was the only one catching the show.

Oh well, she thought, a bubble of laughter catching in her throat—Greg’s skeleton was just as fascinating as his outside was. Beautiful inside as well as outside, she thought and this time couldn’t stop the semi-hysterical snicker from breaking loose. When he slowly re-grew organs and muscle and skin, and nothing else, she thought she’d die of embarrassment. She glanced around. _Oh my God, everyone’s naked—except me._ Laughter bubbled up again, and this time broke loose, sounding like a sob, and she could feel it wanted to just—keep coming… _help._

Greg turned and looked at her, a little wrinkle of concern creasing his forehead. Or at least she hoped it was concern. Now he had to notice her, now, when she was losing her mind. Terrific.

She excused herself and sprinted to the girl’s room, locked herself in a stall and called Poppa.

* _Alexandra, sweetheart—I’m in a meeting. Is it important?_ *

“Pop--Pop, something weird just happened! I could see…*everything*.”

 _*Oh my God_ * he sighed, * _That too?_ *

She took a moment to think what kind of family she had, that she didn’t need to explain what she meant by _everything_.

 _You’ll have to call your dad, Lexie.*_

“No! It’s stupid—I’m fine, Pop, I don’t need to bother him, it’s just—whoa.” She staggered into the wall as her vision went wonky again. “Oh crap.”

 _*Alexandra, it’s not stupid, and he won’t mind. He can teach you how to live with it, how to use it.*_

“But I don’t need to have him teach me. He didn’t have anyone teach him, and he did just fine.”

 _*He hurt for a long time, sweetheart. Do you think he’d want that for you?*_

“No, no, I guess not. Okay, I’ll call tonight.”

 _*Good, thank you, Lexie. Do you want me to come pick you up?*_

“No, thanks, Pop. Love you.” He told her he loved her too and she hung up. Fuck.

Her jaw suddenly dropped, and if life were like a cartoon, a light bulb would have lit up over her head.

What the hell was she thinking! She slapped her forehead. Duh! They’d have to work together now! Finally—she had a cunning plan. And this one should work, with a minimum of blood loss. At least, she was fairly certain about that.

She pumped a fist in the air, and caught sight of herself in the mirrors over the sinks.  
God—Dad’s genes…why did they have to assert themselves at the worst times?

******  
She strolled into the entertainment room, clutching the phone. She dialed, waited.

“Dad—Poppa wants to talk to you.” She thrust the phone into Lex’s hand. “Dad,” she said and moved out of reach. Lex looked shocked and then angry, and then…nervous. Rip looked on in interest. She’d never seen Poppa look nervous before and it was an odd look on him.

“Ah, Clark. Happy to hear you sounding so…chipper.” He glared at Ripley, and mouthed, _So. Much. Trouble._ “Lexie needs your help—no, no—she’s fine, she’s just…getting to an age where she needs your help. you know.” He glared at Riley, and she took off for her room. She knew when she’d stepped over the invisible line. Plus, there was no need for Pop to see her giggling….

“She’s developing new abilities, and I think she needs your experience and expertise.” Lex continued, “I called to ask…would you mind trading months with me--” Lex stopped, took a breath and said, "Or come stay here. Yes, I said come here. Clark…are you all right? You sound a little out of breath.” Red spots burned on each cheek, but he said carefully, “Thanks Clark. I’ll see you Friday then.” He cradled the phone against his cheek.

******  
Heat. Thick and clinging, sweat dripping, sheets wet and hot…he loved it. He loved fucking in the heat, wrapped up in smell and touch and taste and he loved the first push in, that feeling of his cock being sucked into a greedy ass, he loved that it was hot, and slick, the way the walls clung to every inch of his cock. He loved feeling it give, so soft, so smooth…he slid in deeper and groaned. “Yeah.”

He held his lip tight between his teeth and pulled partway out, stared down at his cock, pumped his hips so he could watch it sink in and out of…what’shis name’s ass…fuck, what *was* his name… _God, sex makes you stupid._ He pulled back until the tip just barely nudged the relaxed ring of muscle, then, one hard push and he was all the way in, his balls slapping against—*Chris*—that was his name!—Chris’ ass. He grinned in satisfaction, jumped when the phone rang. “Fuck.”

“So answer it, I’ll wait. Better yet, don’t stop.”

“Kinky,” Clark grinned. “Nice.” He grabbed the phone and struggled to sound casual, and kept fucking. He rocked his hips, heard, “Clark?”

Clark froze. _Oh shit--Lex_. He closed his eyes and electricity fizzed along every nerve. He felt his cock jump. Whats’his name groaned and Clark shoved his head into the pillows.

“Oh, hi there, Lex! What’s up?” _Oooh God…._

* _Clark. Happy to hear you sounding so…chipper. *_

“Yeah, well, everyone’s happy sometime, right?” He bit viciously at his cheek, Chris was squeezing him and he could barely stop the groan that threatened to break out.

 _*Lexie needs help*_ and his cock wilted at once. “What? What’s wrong with her?” He started to slide out, ready to kick whazname out.

* _she’s fine, she’s just…_ * Lex went on to explain that Rip needed help handling newly appearing powers and did he mind coming to stay….

“Come,” Clark gasped and shivered, and his cock was impossibly hard again. _Come_ “…stay with you?” He managed, sounding a little strangled. He thrust harder, and Chris started moaning like a bitch in heat. Clark stopped himself—just--from smothering him. After all, Lex was his ex—it wasn't like he was doing anything wrong.

 _*are you all right? You sound a little out of breath._ *

“Oh, hah…” Another squeeze and his cock throbbed and his voice throbbed along with it--he took a deep breath and ground out, “Oh, I’m fine. I’d love to,” and he tried to keep his voice steady, “come stay with you guys.”

 _*Thanks, Clark. I’ll see you Friday then.*_

The phone went silent, and Clark flung it away, threw his head back, grabbed Chris’ hips and pounded into him, teeth bared, eyes tightly closed and in his mind, he was writhing on pale lavender sheets, and Lex was in him, fucking him without mercy.

******  
Lex hung up thoughtfully. Had Clark been in bed? With someone…while he was talking to him? No, no, of course not--but he sounded like....

Lex licked his lips, and snugged his palm against his crotch. Oh. He rose quickly from the couch, and tried not to run into the bedroom.

He was naked in a flash, not even bothering to put up his clothing the way he usually did (and certainly not a ritualistic way as his ex and his daughter insisted.) He hesitated, and locked his bedroom door.

In his closet, nestled between the shirt drawers, was a small locked drawer and he went to it, unlocked it and pulled out a flannel shirt, so worn it was nearly colorless. He slid his arms into the too long sleeves, and closed his eyes. Inhaled. There really wasn’t any scent left, not besides that provided by his mind, but…his dick rose, so hard it rubbed against his belly, and he let his mind rove through his precious store of memories….

 _an afternoon in summer, heat making the air shimmer, dust motes floating, glinting like gold dust in the late afternoon sunlight pouring through the open loft doors, warming the wooden floors, making the air smell of dust and cedar, skin…the drone of bees making a sleepy back drop of sound, and the only other sound, a breath, a sharp inhale, a groan…a horse blanket ruched up and scratchy under his knees and Clark, eyes wide, lips parted, big hands splayed against the back of his quivering knees, holding himself open for Lex, grunting with each push…his dick slapping against his belly…._

Lex came quickly, head back and thumping gently against the closet wall, his own knees shaking and Clark’s name quiet as a breath on his lips.

God. He hoped that inviting Clark to stay hadn’t been a mistake.

His greatest failure was never being able to learn how to stop loving Clark, the way Clark had learned to stop loving him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> art by Laurab1

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

Clark arrived at the penthouse at a ridiculously early hour, even after spending an awfully long time in the truck, trying to get his hair to look a less like an animal trying to break for freedom.  
He may have sniffed his pits.  
He’d checked his teeth, and smiled at himself and then, groaned. He looked like a psychotic snaggled toothed bulldog....  
He sighed.

And now, he was standing at the door, nervous, afraid to knock. But not because he was afraid of Lex. Or what he’d say. Or how he’d act. It was nuts to think that after all these years, and so much *not* between them, that Lex would have anything to say about—anything concerning him. They were just friends, and the parents of a hell of a kid…and at least Lex couldn’t accuse him of being late. Clark frowned. That just meant he’d find something else to breathe at. Oh, Lex never *said* anything to him, not like he used to when they were...together. He just looked at him and…breathed. He had a way....

Rip just rolled her eyes whenever he tried to explain how--how--intimidating it was. She just didn’t understand. Dad didn’t understand--not even Mom understood. They’d never been on the receiving end of it…he shuddered. Horrible….

He glanced down at what he was wearing. Jeans, a flannel shirt, (he didn’t care what Rip said about flannel) over a fairly new tee-shirt. _Is this tee too small?_ It was--Rip was going to have a fit. The tee-shirt was too tight, and crap—there was a hole in the chest--note to self—don’t for god’s sake call her Ripley…Lexie, Lexie, Lexie….he hurriedly button the shirt, and knocked tentatively, maybe too softly and was about to knock again when the door opened, and Lex was standing there, staring at his raised fist.

“…Good morning, Clark,” he smiled; a small smile that was on it’s way to being a smirk. Clark smiled back, mentally kicking the small part of himself that had been looking forward to seeing Lex sleep rumpled but no—Lex was crisp and fresh and bright eyed.

“Come in, Alexandra’s still asleep.” He said, in a tone most people would have used to say she was up kicking puppies. “She’ll be up soon.” Lex wrinkled his nose an infinitesimal bit as his eyes traveled over the tee-shirt. They stopped at the hole in the hem. He took a breath, looked at Clark, and released it. _damn it!_

“Coffee?”

Clark blushed, so deeply, he could feel it burning from his neck to his hairline. “No. Yes. No. Yes. Um, thank you, yes.” He felt like an enormous fool, and headed to the kitchen, still blushing helplessly. Lex watched him walk by, and cocked a pale eyebrow at him. Clark could feel it on his back, all the way.

The kitchen was filled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and Clark sank down gratefully on a barstool at the high counter flanking the stove. Lex sat at the opposite end, and asked him, “Where are your bags?”

“Oh—ah—still in the truck.” How the hell had he forgotten his bags? Too busy messing with his hair, that’s why. Idiot.

“Your shirt’s buttoned wrong…” Lex made a circley motion at his chest and Clark felt ten times more a fool. Lex rubbed his lip. “Your latest couldn’t tell you it was wrong?”

“My—I don’t *have* a latest, thank you,” he said primly. _as of last night, anyway_ , and Lex didn’t need to know that. Clark rolled his eyes at himself. He was talking to *Lex*, for heavens sake—odds were, he probably already knew.

Lex smiled at him. “Ready for coffee?”

“Oh, thanks.” He watched Lex pour him a cup of coffee, and when he set it down in front of Clark, his fingers slid over the rim, so quickly he might have imagined it. Clark stared at the cup, at the rim, and licked his lips. When he reached out for the cup, and looked up again, Lex was at the other end of the counter, behind the Metropolis Morning Bulletin. Of course.

“Lex…I brought my book—my work-- with me. Do you mind?”

The paper rustled and from behind it came, “Not at all. We can turn one of the spare bedrooms into a studio for you. And…Carl? Whoever it is working with you.”

“Calvin, actually, and thanks.” He didn’t ask if it would put Lex out to do so. He wouldn’t have offered if it would. Lex never said anything he didn’t mean, Clark thought. That was why he was so popular a senator, that’s why he’d be mayor of the city before long…Clark blinked.

It was no longer his business, he thought. Personally, or professionally, neither of them, for a long time. When he still worked on the paper, it might have been--Lois tried her best to discredit Lex, she'd picked at and examined every aspect of his life she could. What she revealed was that Lex was a model citizen, no matter how she'd poked and scratched and really wanted there to be something slimy under the surface.

Clark smiled. Not that that meant anything except that Lex was extremely good at what he did…he coughed, hard. Jesus. He was not going to have a fond moment over...things in the past. He gulped coffee and shook his head when Lex around the paper inquiringly. Ventured a smile. Felt absurdly pleased when Lex smiled back, and really wanted to see another of those smiles directed at him… “Gee! What’s to eat?”

Lex looked at him, looked at the table and said, “I beg your pardon?”

Clark took in the little pot of jam, the butter, the plate of flaky croissants and asked in a pleading tone, “Is there… real food?”

Lex smiled for a fleeting instant and then fixed him with a steely gray gaze. “Food, Clark?” But Clark could see at the warmth at the bottom of that icy gaze.

“No really, Lex, I’m starving.” And whining. What was it about Lex that turned him into that eighteen year old again? He was nearly thirty and yet…if he was with him for longer than fifteen minutes, he regressed.

Lex sighed the sigh of the long-suffering and folded his paper neatly. “All right, I can see I’m not going to be able to read my paper in peace. Let me see…” He rummaged about in the glass doored fridge, took out a cardboard container of blueberries, and milk, and butter, sent Clark to get flour and baking powder from the pantry.

“Wow, so you can cook,” Clark marveled as he loomed over Lex, watching him add a bit of sugar and vanilla to a bowl of egg yolks.

“Your mother kindly taught me how to make pancakes, just the way Alexandra likes them. It was a matter of self-preservation,” he muttered, as he measured. “Your daughter can be…slightly demanding.”  
He began sifting flour, pointed Clark towards the eggs. “Whisk—but not too much.”

“Lex,” he whined. “One time—and the egg wash was your fault!” He referred to another time he’d been pressed into service-- he’d been whisking eggs, completely absorbed, and Lex had snuck up on him, skimmed down his sweats and bit him on the butt. Okay, he’d known Lex was sneaking up on him, but what made liquid egg form a thin film over nearly everything in the kitchen had been the totally unexpected rimming….

He blushed and felt himself twitch and he could see the back of Lex’s neck turn pink. “Oh, I’m sorry…” Was that too intimate a memory to make a joke of? Did he have a right to….

“Don’t be,” Lex smiled. He held out a packet of bacon to Clark. “You get to do breakfast meats. Lexie’s favorite.”

Clark made a face. “Ri—Alexandra likes turkey bacon?” Since when, Clark thought, remembering mile high BLTs they made with loads of pork and mayo, slices of tomato so thin as to be clear, and the incidental shred of greenery—for color, they agreed.

“Yes.” Lex replied emphatically. “And fresh vegetables, and….”

Clark widened his eyes, “Oh, of course,” he said, and nodded. “Oh, yes, she does like that,” he agreed to everything Lex said, and thought to himself, if he was staying longer than a weekend—he needed to shop for real food.

  
Ripley woke not long after the pancakes were done, no doubt lured to the world of the alert by the promise of food. She ran into the kitchen and jumped into Clark’ lap and threw her arm around him. Also, she stole most of his pancakes but assured him it was out of love.

“Lucky me,” Clark said, less than convinced love had anything to do with it.

The morning passed quickly, Clark took Ripley to school, moved his bags from the truck to the small bedroom that he remembered being a nursery in another life. He stood in the doorway, and looked all around. He could still see the faint shadows of Tigger and Pooh under the coats of sea-foam green paint. He sat on the bed and felt a little lost.

Lex appeared in the doorway. “Clark, why don’t we set this up as your study? I think the bedroom I have in mind will be more comfortable for you.”

“Sure, Clark squeaked and moaned to himself. No way did Lex mean that the way it sounded, and besides that wasn’t what either one of them wanted, anyway.  
He followed Lex, and was led to the bedroom directly across from Rip’s—and next to his.

“Oh, yeah, this is a bigger room, yeah it’s nice and the window, yeah, the old nursery didn’t have windows, hah—that was my fault right? Remember, I was afraid she’d fall out the window? Ha-she couldn’t even walk…” his torrent of words wound down as he realized Lex was waiting patiently for him to stop. “Why do I feel like an idiot every time I’m around you?” Fuck—he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Lex looked totally surprised. “You do? Why? I mean…I have meeting to go to, and a lot of things…to catch up on. I’ll call you—oh! Toby and Dr. Chang are waiting to talk to you tonight. They want to participate in the ‘lessons’, but only if it’s okay with you?”

“Oh, sure, that’s fine. I’ll have to call Calvin and let him know we’ll be working here now—are you sure that’s okay?”

“I’m positive. Oh—you mean Calvin? Well, that’s old news, isn’t it? You know…you might try just shaking someone’s hand when you meet, instead of…”

Clark burned red and rolled his eyes, “Lex! It’s not like that.”

Lex snorted.

“Well, maybe a little…but that’s been a long time ago too, you know. I’ve changed.” _as of yesterday, and if I cross my fingers he’ll see._

Lex laughed lightly and turned away. “I’ll be home late—I have an appointment. Lexie knows what to do on my late nights—she’ll take care of you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> art by Laurab1

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

Clark listened to the front door close, and sighed. He looked about and thought how weird it was going to be,living in the apartment again, even if only for a few days. And how strange it was going to be to see Lex so often. Talking to him. He hoped it wasn’t going to become…difficult. Lex could be very—Lex when he wanted to be and Ripley…he sighed again. He hoped she didn’t have some Parent Trap fantasy going on. He smiled a little. He almost didn’t put it past her to have manufactured this biological emergency, just to get the two of them in the same room for longer than a few minu—oh shit. Would she? No, no! Of course not….  
No, really, she wouldn’t.

He walked back to the bedroom to empty his bags. He unpacked his clothes—about a weeks worth. Maybe he packed too much? Did it seem pushy, so many clothes? He shrugged. Lex would surely let him know if he wore out his welcome.

There was lots of space in the dresser, and in the closet, and there were towels stacked in the small bathroom. He pulled open the shower door, and there was shampoo, body wash, deodorant. He didn’t check to see if they were his brands. It looked like Lex expected him to be there for a while. _good,_ a tiny, mostly ignored voice, way at the back of his mind, whispered.

He wandered back to the small bedroom that Lex told him to use for his workspace. He figured by the time he got back from picking up Ripley, there’d be a desk and…and whatever he needed. For a brief moment, he felt an enormous weight press down on him. He was sad. Just…sad. He remembered sitting over in *that* corner, holding a little scrap of screaming, red-faced baby, and being just terrified. He remembered Lex, patting his shoulder and assuring him they’d survive, that Rip would survive, and all would be well. He also remembered packing all the little clothes and toys and leaving Lex behind the bedroom door, sitting in this room alone. He took in a shaky breath. Weird, how he hadn’t thought about that particular day in an awfully long time. _of course not,_ the little voice said, _you were a monumental asshole. Who’d want to remember that?_  
Sometimes he hated that voice….

He wandered back down the hall, to pause at the door to Ripley’s bedroom. His room. He stood beside the door for a little bit, remembering when the world was clearly black and white and he saw everything perfectly. He stroked the doorframe and shook his head. Okay, he’d been an enormous asshole—concerning the way he’d left. But if he’d never left, where would he be now? Probably buried under Lex, absorbed by him, through no fault of Lex’s. Clark knew that kid had been totally willing, even eager, to let Lex take care of every aspect of his life. It would only have gotten worse and worse…he sighed. Yeah. They’d have been at this point anyway, he thought. Sooner or later, they’d have split. Maybe it was better that it happened so early.

Herta passed him in the hallway, and stopped. “Is everything okay, Mr. Clark? Can I help you?” She stared at him in curiosity, and Clark knew he must look…odd

“No, no, I’m just on my way to pick up, um, Alexandra.” Whew! He smiled and ducked out from under Herta’s questioning gaze, and headed out to pick up Ripley.

******

She was standing at the bottom of the steps, looking cute as a button, her red hair ruffled by the breeze. He grinned. There was something in him that was always enormously pleased that she had Lex’s red hair, and when she turned to him and waved, he felt like he was seeing Lex as a child. A happier version of him, anyway. He narrowed his eyes. She wasn’t alone, or with girlfriends today. There was some strange kid with her, someone he’d never seen before. Blond and tall, kind of cute. And nervous.  
Hmm.

He parked the truck between a Mercedes and a Jaguar, rolled his eyes at both. He strolled over to his daughter and the strange boy standing entirely too close to her.

  
“Hey, Ri—Lexie. Ready?” he asked her, with his eyes trained on the really nervous kid. It’s possible he might have stood a little taller, not exactly loomed….

“Daa-aad.” She rolled her eyes.

“What? What?” He threw an arm around her shoulder, and she sighed the tiniest bit—more like an exhale--a breath. He took his arm off her shoulder.

“Dad, this is Greg. Oh, and Irving. This is my dad, guys.” A shorter, darker kid with jet-black hair and baggy black pants festooned with straps and chains, sidled up next to Ripley, his eyes round and curious.

‘They’re friends of mine. I wanted to know if I could go to the movies with them?”

“What—tonight? But…” He swallowed. He could handle being alone in the apartment—not like it was full of ghosts or anything.

She looked at him for a long moment, and slowly smiled. “No, We want to go tomorrow night.”

Greg stammered, “Oh, we do? I mean, we do.” Disappointment was plain in his eyes, but he smiled at Ripley. “If it’ s okay, Mr. Kent.”

Irving looked a little lost but nodded too.

Clark tried not to show how glad he was and offered to drop the boys off.

“Thanks sir, we’ve got a ride.”

“Oh, yes sir. My mom’s coming to pick us up,” Irving said, and Clark wondered if maybe he had his shirt on inside out, or god forbid—was there something in his nose? That Irving kid was staring a hole through him. His hand drifted up to his face, but he conquered the desire to rub, just in case.

“All right then,” Clark said, feeling distinctly weirded out by being called sir. And the little Goth kid staring at him like…like maybe he wanted some of his blood, or whatever. Geez. Sir. Like he was some old guy. “Come on, Lexie, we’ve got appointments, remember?”

“Oh, gosh, right! I forgot. Talk to you later…Greg.” She smiled, her eyes sparkled, and Clark’s heart dropped. Oh-oh. *Now*, he got it…Greg. Oh boy. _Lex was going to explode._ Clark suddenly grinned. _Lex was going to *explode*!_

Greg blushed and grinned and nodded as he backed away from Ripley, pulling Irving with him. “Okay. Tomorrow.”

“Poppa’s going to be late tonight,” Clark said, as they headed back to the lot.

“Umm. That’s right—it’s the end of the month…that means one of Herta’s nutritious and delicious meals in front of the TV.”

Ripley groaned when she caught sight of the truck, hunkered down in its spot between the newer and shinier cars and Clark held up his hand. “This is a perfectly good, and extremely functional vehicle. He put a hand on its faded red metal flank, and said softly, fondly, “It’s exactly like one I almost owned…” he shook himself a little. “Come on, get in and be grateful we *have* a vehicle.”

She got in grumpily said, “First of all, ‘Granddad’, we’re rich---we could have one for every day of the week--”she went on, ignoring Clark’s scandalized gasp. “Second—it’s ugly, Dad. It might have been hot stuff back in the early two’s but it’s just a beat up old truck now.”

“You have no poetry in your soul,” he grumbled as he backed out of the space.

She looked at him, studied him, and then smiled and laid her hand on his knee. “That’s okay, we have someone in the family who’s chock full of poetry. Love you, Dad. And I think you just made the Mercedes pee itself.”

Clark snorted.

******

Lex practiced breathing in the limo, all the way to the club. He closed his eyes, and inhaled, and saw bright red, tight bright red, tight bright red tee shirt, hole…He shook his head and growled under his breath.

It was taking him a bit longer than usual to compose himself after having to deal with Clark, but he imagined it was the length of the contact, _red_ and after all, he knew very well what he was letting himself in for when he asked him to stay. All that mattered, was what was best for Alexandra, and what was best, was having him there, to support her. Besides, it was always kind of unspoken, at least in his mind, that Clark would be there for her if—-when--she went through all the various changes he’d gone through growing up. Lexie’s powers seemed to becoming on earlier…maybe a factor of her genetic make-up, or having been born on the Earth? Perhaps it was the sun--it affected Clark, definitely. Summers he’d been a powerhouse, and a very agreeable companion—winters, he could be a real bitch.

He smiled and folded his collar smooth, thinking about the past. He adjusted his bowtie, glanced at his watch. He planned to have dinner with an attractive and very male companion and show a lot of teeth and look extremely fit and content, in a highly public place. He planned to look irresistibly photogenic. When he ran for mayor, he had no desire to be elected despite being gay—he wanted it to be a non-issue. He wanted to be elected because he was the best man for the job. He knew it; he wanted the public to know it as well.

The limo pulled up outside of the club, a drab building, the bland architecture designed to be forgettable. Perfect for those who required discretion. Usually at the sight of the oak double doors, he felt a little thrill of anticipation, but this evening, he felt more trepidation than anticipation. Why, he had no idea. Aaron would be waiting for him in the bar, as usual, and they’d have a drink before going upstairs, and then, they’d go out to have dinner, as they always did.

This visit, it was Aaron’s turn to arrange the entertainment for the evening. They switched off—it kept their meetings fresh. Four years, and he was quite comfortable with Aaron's choices. He was pleasant, intelligent and unassuming and insanely attractive. These once a month visits kept him…sane. And safe, and without them he’d—well, he wasn’t sure what he’d do.

Soft yellow light made the bar look like a gas-lit Victorian gentleman’s club. He headed between white bedecked tables, and overstuffed chairs upholstered in burgundy velvet and there in the corner sat Aaron. He waved and Lex nodded and squeezed past a few patrons to finally, gratefully, drop into a heavy soft chair.  
Aaron pushed a scotch over in front of him, and smiled. “So, busy day, eh?”

“You have no idea. We’re having a bit of a problem with a new product we’re trying to introduce to the market, seems someone else has a similar design and wants to sue us, still trying to drum up support for my bill—and my ex is moving in with us.” Lex stopped, surprised at himself. His private business was private. He must be very rattled or very tired to let his guard down like that.

Aaron’s eyes gleamed. “You mean that handsome basketballer? The tall one with the big smile?”

‘No, no—he’s just a friend of the family. No. This is someone else—would you like to have dinner first, or…”

Aaron smiled. “Dinner? Well, that would be a change. Do I have to miss out on my appetizer?”

Lex smirked. “Not at all. Shall we?” He slid his eyes along Aaron’s tall muscular frame, his artfully messy black curls, wide hazel eyes, and full red mouth. He knew what that mouth could do, he looked forward to it. Aaron’s high cheekbones were already red, he flushed easily when excited. All this attracted Lex in the beginning, never failed to arouse him, for four years, Aaron had been able to make him come blindingly, made him feel like a god, and was worth every single penny he paid him. Amazing athletic sex, with a man built like the David, and suddenly, horribly, in the blink of an eye, he didn’t want it. He’d rather be home right now, jerking off in his shower, having tea and going to bed. Jesus…Clark was ruining his life already. Not even in his home a few hours and already, he was screwing up his sex life.

Aaron looked at him, eyes full of anticipation—why not, two thousand a night wasn’t anything to sneeze at, though Lex admitted, he got his money's worth, and more… "Aaron,” he sighed. “Here.” He pushed a heavy cream envelope towards him, the rough surface of the paper bulged slightly by it’s contents. "I’m sorry; I just can’t…but everything’s there, like always. I’m sorry; I suddenly don’t feel all that well.”

Aaron looked…Lex was deeply surprised to see Aaron looked disappointed. He’d expected to see—well, certainly not that.

Aaron put out his hand. “Lex, come on, we don’t have to go out, we can stay in. Let me make you feel a little better, please?”

Better consisted of Lex leaning back in a velvet-upholstered chair, the twin of the one in the bar. Just Aaron and himself, in a private room upstairs. His head lolled against the high back, his shirt was undone, his tie loosened and looped around his neck. His pants were pushed under his hips. Aaron had him in his mouth, a hand wrapped around him, his mouth stretching as it slid down his dick, following his hand, down to the base, suction increasing as he pulled back up to the head.

Lex gasped with each up and down stroke, lifted a little to meet them, to increase the feeling. His nostrils flared as he tried to pull in more air—his hands flew up to cradle Aaron’s head, buried his fingers in the thick black hair. He urged him on, to suck harder, faster. Stared down at the broad shoulders; the dark head bent over in his lap, black curls tickling his thighs and shivered. He gripped the side of the chair with one hand and wrapped the other tighter in Aaron’s hair. “Uh—fuck!” He groaned, and Aaron moaned around him. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chanted, as heat rose upwards, higher and higher, until he was spilling in Aaron’s mouth, gasping as he watched him swallow. Lex dropped back to the chair, panting, sweating, not caring at all that the perfect creases of his suit were ruined. “God, Aaron.”

He looked up at Lex and leaned on his thighs. “Umm. That was fun.”

Lex laughed shakily. “Yes, that was fun.”

“Let’s order dinner, and stay in. the bed is very wide, plenty of room for a picnic,” he smiled.

Lex smiled back. “If you order, I’ll be happy to join you. I just have a call to make.”

******  
Lex shifted a little, and Aaron’s warm weight moved off of him. He sighed, stretched and the satin smooth sheets felt wonderful. He was tired, and the bed was soft, and warm, and Aaron was big, heavy, and warm himself. The arm curled over him nearly pinned him in place. He smiled a little. He liked the feeling….

He’d been more demanding tonight than he usually was, and Aaron had been more than pleased. The night had been unusual from the start—Lex rarely allowed himself to indulge in more than oral sex, mutual masturbation. Tonight, however, he’d felt aggressive. Even now, he wanted to wake Aaron up, fuck him again, instead of going home.

He also felt vaguely guilty. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly one o’clock. Alexandra would be asleep now. He felt terrible about being out so late—even though he’d called, even though Clark was there. A little guilt speared him about that too. Clark’s first night staying with them and he was taking advantage of him. Oh well, guilt was a constant, wasn’t it?

A few minutes later, he was showered, and dressed, and heading home, ready to be alone for the next month.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> art by Laurab1

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

Ripley yelled out, “The good part is coming up!”

“It’s Starship Troopers—there are no good parts!”

Dad grumbled as he strolled in the room, a pizza box in one hand, and two sodas in the other. “You have an unhealthy attachment to this movie, and since when does Lex let you watch stuff like this,” he grumbled but mostly to himself. “I can’t believe he’d even buy this thing.”

She coughed, blushed a bit and said, “Geez, you and Poppa have the same taste in movies. And music. And…well, certainly not clothes…” _or movies or music but…_

Dad growled a bit, but looked pleased a bit, too, and she smiled to herself. _Oh, yeah, like shooting fish in a barrel…_ she frowned a little, _what in the heck did that even mean…._

He plopped down next to her on the couch. “Pop’s going to kill us,” he muttered. “ ‘nutritious snack.’”

“Unh-hunh, calcium, protein…green stuff…” she said. She reached for a slice—“Hey, you forgot--”

“Napkins, right!” There was a slight breeze and he was sitting next to her with a handful of napkins.

“Ah, what a wonderful use of these nearly magical powers we have…”

“Don’t start, watch the movie.”

She shoved her feet under Dad’s leg, and chewed her way through a nutritious slice with everything.

“So, what do you usually do when Poppa has a late meeting?”

“Mmm,” she shrugged. “Watch a movie, read, talk to my friends.” _maybe she should ask him whether he thought Pop would go ballistic about Greg…_

Dad nodded. “So…a meeting, hunh? They take long?”

She was so wrapped up in about Greg, she answered without thought, “ He thinks I think he’s at a meeting. He’s got a rent-a-date.”

Dad choked and sputtered, coke dribbled down his shirtfront. “What?”

“Oh, I’m not supposed to know, but hello—super-hearing?”

“But—but, that’s not possible—I’d know.”

Ripley looked at her dad speculatively. “So, you actually think that he’s not supposed to—even though you—with everyone?”

Dad was so flustered, he missed the jab entirely, waved his hands around. “No! No, that’s not what I mean at all. He’s a grown—I’m just saying I’d know if he, if he…”

“…so….you’re saying you stalk him, then?”

Dad turned bright red. “Eat your food before it gets cold.”

“You do, don’t you,” she crowed. “Dad! You’re so lame!” She laughed, but mostly out of happiness. She knew it, he practically came out and said it, he cared—all those stupid guys he dated--he was just waiting for Pop, who was waiting for him…geez. What would they do if she hadn’t been born? She shook her head. Idiots.  
“Tell him dad. Tell him you know.”

“No—if I do, I’d have to talk about me.”

“Dad, you know it’s not like Poppa doesn’t know. He could give lessons in watching you. Thank goodness, or he’d be all in my business constantly.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “You have ‘business’, Alexandra?”

“NO! You know what I mean—and don’t change the subject, we’re talking about you.”

He shifted and frowned. They both stared at the movie. She sighed.

“Talk to him Dad. Dad, you know very well you love Poppa, and don’t hand me that ‘like a friend’ junk. You know if you needed him he’d be there in a minute and not even ask what or why.”

Dad stared at the slice of cold pizza drooping in his hand. “Yeah. I guess. Um…what’s this dating service called?”

“I don’t know, ew. Why should I care—he’s out, comes home late and then mopes around for a day or two. Showers me with goodies, and then, it’s life as usual.” She shrugged. “You know Pop.”

He crammed the end of the slice in his mouth and chewed, nodded. He did know Pop. And she knew him. _Wheels, my friend, wheels are turning…._

“By the way, there’s this thing at school. I’d like for you both to come.”

Dad stopped chewing and smiled. “I’d like that. We haven’t been to a ‘thing’ together…”

“Ever,” she glowered. “You’ve *never* been to a school thing together. So you guys come to my play.”

He agreed, and looked so pleased….

“Great, you can ask him after his date tonight.”

He instantly deflated. “Oh. Yeah. That.” he said, and glowered at the screen.

She regretted manipulating him like that. Somewhat. “Dad, a dating service doesn’t mean ‘boyfriend’ you know.” She snuggled under his arm.

“Yeah,” he said softly, “It’s not like I’ve watched a parade of guys coming and going and had to wonder, which one would be the last one…”

She looked up and saw the terrible sadness on her father’s face, and was pretty sure he wasn’t feeling sorry for himself. She squeezed his arm and he hugged her back fiercely.

They sat and watched another movie in comfortable silence and after a while, he began to snore a little.

 _Hah,_ she thought. _what a lightweight. It’s not even…that…late…._

*****

Lex unlocked the door quietly, hung up his overcoat and loosened his tie. He could hear the TV from the foyer, and was deeply surprised it was still on. Alexandra was always sound asleep in her bed when he came home, weekend or not. He’d have to talk to her—talk to Clark. He shouldn’t have let her stay up so late…he walked into the entertainment room and stopped. Smiled. They were both on the couch, heads leaning together, and snoring gently.

It was a beautiful picture.

All the guilt that wore at him on the way home seemed to dissipate. Right now, the only thing he felt was a strong desire to join them there on the couch. He stopped, shrugged. Took off his jacket and tie, his shoes, and sat next to Lexie. He threw his arm around her, and his hand touched Clark’s shoulder. It felt…nice. Good. Too bad he wasn’t really sleepy, it would be nice to….

******  
Clark woke up with a warm weight against him, and a smile on his face. Something smelled good, like…home, and happy…he opened his eyes. _of course._

Rip was curled into him, her hand wrapped in his shirt, gently drooling away. He closed her mouth with a fingertip, and looked over and—Lex. No wonder it smelled so…right. He took a moment to inhale, closed his eyes and savored his delicious scent, like he never had a chance to anymore. He sighed quietly. Lex looked kind of content. And elegant—no one wearing rumpled evening wear and sleeping on a couch should look so elegant.

He gazed at him, just enjoying the opportunity to look at him. He’d changed little in the past few years, really. Now that he was relaxed, Clark noticed that he had a few lines, a few, around his mouth. He liked it. It drew attention to his mouth, made it even sexier. He was a little heavier than when they’d first met. More solid. More…there. Lex had always seemed almost painfully thin to Clark. Breakable. He looked less so now. Clark smiled. He was willing to bet the few pounds drove him crazy.

Clark eased himself out of Rip’s damp embrace, and rose carefully from the couch. Before he left the room, he kissed his daughter on her forehead, and couldn’t resist laying his hand on Lex’s cheek. It was as silky as he remembered, cool, as humans tended to be. He desperately wanted to touch his mouth, the little scar still evident on his upper lip. He pulled himself away and headed to the kitchen.

It was early enough that Herta had just begun to make breakfast, so he begged a glass of juice, slipped on his sneakers and headed out to walk around the park.

  
He strolled slowly through the paths, watched the sun rise over the trees, enjoyed watching the daytime city come to life. He bought a coffee, and on a whim, a cinnamon roll, something he hadn’t done in a long, long time, smiling at the smell of cinnamon and butter, of memories. He laughed a little, thinking of cinnamon and confusion….

He found a bench that sat back a little way from the foot paths, took out his cell and searched a number he hadn’t called in a while.

 _*Hey—the hell you doing up so early?*_ A huge growl of a yawn filled Clark’s ear.

“Grumpy. Couldn’t sleep. I was out walking and realized I missed you, figured I’d call.” Clark smiled, waited for more grumbling.

 _*…You can’t miss me in the afternoon—it’s gotta be the asscrack of the morning?_ Jordan yawned deeply again, and Clark could hear rustling in the background.

“You’re in bed—I’m sorry.”

 _*Shit. Lucky for you, I’m alone. So what’s up?*_

“I just wanted to let you know, that I’m…ah…living at Lex’s for the moment. Well, not living there, just staying a few nights. Helping out Rip. You know. So in case you wanted to call….”

 _*Living--man. That boy could slam his hand in a car door couple times and get the same effect for cheaper. He’s going to go broke, trying to feed her and you.*_

“Shut up. I won’t hurt him.”

 _*Yeah, much.*_

Clark was silent, thinking, and then asked, “Do you think…he’d want me to…to stay there? Let me?”

 _*You asshole. If I was him, I’d tell you to kiss my b—ass. But we're talking 'bout Lex, he’d just look. Do that eye thing, and say, if you’d like. Bastard.*_

Clark was quiet, wondering if Jordan meant him, or Lex. There was more rustling and then a groan, and a suspicious, hollow sort of hissing sound.

“Are you peeing while I’m talking to you?”

 _*What—it’s not like you can see. Besides, take it from me, it’s as pretty as the last time you saw it.*_

“Geez—that’s…well, okay, it’s not disgusting but it’s wrong. Very wrong.”

 _*Hmp. Tell that to little Jay. Anyway, you’re in there now, boy—dig in like a tick.*_

“You have a very disturbing way of describing things, you know. Tick.” Clark shuddered lightly.

 _*Blah-blah. Look, you love him, he loves you, you need to stop fucking your way through the city *and* the mu’fucken suburbs and get back where you belong.*_ Jordan’s voice softened as he went on. _*He loves you, he really does. Not so surprising-- everyone who knows you loves you, Clark. They can’t help it.*_

Clark felt warmth spread through him, felt a big, probably goofy, grin bloom on his face. And Jordan continued.

 _* Must be some freaky Smallville meteor thing—*_ he chuckled at Clark’s gasp of outrage. _* seriously… Lex…he needs you.*_

“It’s been along time, Jor—maybe too long.”

 _*It’s Lex. Do you think time means anything to him? Do you think he doesn’t understand you better than anyone? Look, other folks might have given up, but he’s…he’s like one of those monks way up in those mountains, you know? He sees everything. And when he needs to be, he’s patient as shit. It’d kind of scary.*_

Clark made a small noise. “Oh gosh—you do love him, don’t you?”

 _*What? Lex? Shit, you really are stupid. And stupid. Stupid as dirt. Go home.*_ He hung up and Clark sat for a while, soaking up the sun.

At least that wasn’t complicated.

*****

By the time he made it back home, Ripley was dressed and eating breakfast and Lex was just coming out of. Coming out of. Out of.

“Clark? Are you all right?”

"Oh yes, excuse me—I. Why are you in the hallway, in a robe? Wet?"

"Because...it’s my home and I can dress, or not dress, as I wish…are you *sure* you’re all right—you look a little pale. Have you been out yet this morning?” he asked sternly.

He nodded. “Yes, sunning--I really am fine. I’m going to shower and…you know.”

Lex gave him a long level look that made him blush, and he walked quickly to his room.

God, Shower. Shower and ‘you know’, *definitely* on his list.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> art by Laurab1

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

Ripley was extremely put out about spending her Saturday morning working, instead of hanging out. And especially spending it with Dr. Chang, who was almost as big a nudge as Poppa, she complained. “Why can’t Doc Toby do this?”

Clark looked at her and exploded into laughter. “Toby?”

She couldn’t help but grin too. “Okay, maybe not…”

“Really, Rip, if we needed someone to go ‘Oh, cooool maaa-aan’, then yeah, Toby would be the one to call.”

“Dad! He’s not *that* bad, you make him sound like…that Cheech and Chong guy.”

Clark laughed again. “What do you know about Cheech and Chong?” He slung an arm around her shoulders, and guided her into the lab, explained that their abilities worked everyday, not just weekdays, and it really was important to spend more than five minutes after school with Dr.Chang. “You don’t want to be distracted at a bad moment by your eyesight acting up, or your hearing—though you seem to have that pretty much under control.”

“Yes, thank God,” she huffed.

Clark sighed. Having a teen with super enhanced senses meant there was no dissembling about—a lot of natural drives. There was no point in pretending sex didn’t exist. The world pointed it out to her in plenty. Thank God she was able to protect herself now against the storm of other peoples emotions, activities--her two dads included. He remembered going through the same thing. It had been…ghastly. Just…bad. And he couldn’t even *imagine* trying to tell his parents.

They probably all would have committed ritual suicide together.

There was a reason he had a room of his own in the loft, in the barn *away* from the house and it wasn’t just to think, or stare at the stars, or….

There was a reason he called it the Fortress Of Solitude. He’d have called it the Fortress Of Ew, That’s Just Gross As Hell, if he dared.

As for Ripley—she’d been raised to expect the unexpected. She’d always been able to talk to them about anything. Sex was explained, and understood, and not a mystery. Clark grimaced. She may not have suffered a lot of mystery, but her parents--it would have been really nice to have a Kryptonian child-rearing handbook. He and Lex constantly had to make it up on the fly. Other parents didn’t have the worries they’d had—they probably didn’t have terrified all-nighters, freaking out and thinking their baby was dying and not knowing what to do—whom to call.

Thank goodness for Lex. He’d kept him sane back in those days….

“Dad, you ready?”

Clark stared at her for a moment, struck again how much she looked like Lex, to him. He sighed and nodded to Dr. Chang. “Ready as we’ll ever be, I guess.”

******

Dr. Chang made Ripley go through a series of exercises designed to help her purposely change her vision. After a while, she even stopped pouting and making sarcastic comments, becoming as engrossed as Dr. Chang in discovering what she could do.

Clark called out encouragement and suggestions from time to time, but mostly sat and watched Ripley work it out on her own. She was amazing, he thought. Happy, bright, beautiful—they were so lucky.

He watched her red curls bounce as she enthusiastically discussed results with Dr. Chang, who beamed steadily at her as she chattered on. Ripley might as well have been the doctor’s also; he took so much pride in all her accomplishments.

As awful as it had been in the beginning, carrying her, terrified out of his mind—Clark knew he’d do it again in a second, if he knew Ripley would be his reward. He thought about her other father and sighed. Yeah. All of it, he guessed. Even that.

 _And thinking of Lex…there was something…Lex….oh! Right. Ripley’s boyfriend._

He grinned.

 _Explode._

*****

After the workout, and lunch, Ripley and Clark strolled into the study, so casually that if Lex had been watching instead of reading, mental alarms would have gone off immediately.

She perched on the arm of the sofa, walked her fingers over his head, and asked Lex casually if it would be all right if some friends came over that evening.

He answered her distractedly, absorbed by what he was reading. “Umm. Sure. Your girlfriends are always welcome here.”

“Boy friend. Boy. Boys.” Clark and Rip said at the same time. It seemed to hang in the air, sort of lingering like…fog. Or smoke, Clark thought.

Lex paused, put a finger against the page he was reading, closed the book and said, “I beg your pardon?” He looked up into Rip’s wide green and above all, innocent eyes. “Boy? You did say…”

She nodded, and Lex opened his mouth once or twice before glaring at Clark.

Clark shrugged and looked solemn, but inside he was thinking, ‘Explode!’

“Pop, the *boy* is my *friend*. Greg. And his friend, Irving.”

  
The glare Lex leveled at Clark intensified. “And you knew about this and didn’t tell me?”

Clark looked as horrorstruck as he could. “What makes you think I knew?” He figured a hand on his chest might be overkill, so he just stared back, knowing his eyes automatically widened in befuddled innocence.

“Clark.”

Okay, he thought, he’s not going for the ‘who, me?’ anymore than he ever did… “We meant to tell you yesterday. Because I only found out yesterday. I met him. He seems a nice boy. And Irving…Irving.” Clark’s brows knotted. “…he’s…clean.” He blushed and shrugged again when Rip cast him a look.  
 _What?_

Lex closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. “ Well, Alexandra, I know you don’t need to be told--”

“Oh please, Pop. We’re getting together to watch movies—here. It’s not like it’s a date. He’ll be watching movies and eating popcorn, is all.”

Nope, not a date, Clark thought, he’ll be watching movies, and you’ll be watching him. Sitting on the far end of the couch, eating popcorn and trying to remember to watch the movie, and not him. Memorizing every little mole and freckle, every little bump on his head…He looked back at Lex and smiled.

Whatever expression he wore, it seemed to surprise Lex looked a little, and warmth filled his eyes, so completely, Clark felt like floating.

And just as quickly, it was gone. He turned his full attention on Ripley. “This boy—these boys. I’d like to meet their parents.”

“POPPA! Nobody does that anymore—it’s so grade school. They’re just going to be dropped off at the door. Come on. I go to *school* with them…” Clark heard, _for God’s sake don’t make me want to kill myself_ under her words.

He looked at Lex and raised his eyebrows. _Please, Lex…_

Lex looked at him, back at Rip. He huffed. “Fine,” he said. “I’m sure they’re decent boys.” And Clark could see the shift in his eyes, like a shutter closing and opening. He would know everything about those decent boys by the end of the day, because that was Lex

Clark glanced back at Ripley, but she was smiling, looking satisfied, as though she’d won. Did she not see it, couldn’t she tell…she caught his eyes and he saw the laughter in hers. Clark was startled. She knew—and she didn’t care…expected it, maybe?

He walked back to his room, shut the door and lit his work area. He sat in front of the spread pages of his book, and thought.

This Alexandra was different than the Alexandra he knew, it seemed. She knew Lex, expected, and seemed to find amusing, the very things that had made him question Lex. She tolerated him. The same way she tolerated *his* endless ‘boyfriends’, the sudden disappearances his job demanded of him.

Did he give her enough time, he wondered. Lex was always there, it seemed. Maybe…he was a better parent. Maybe, she cared about him more. Not that he faulted her if she did, after all, Lex was...yes, he was always there.

******

“Poppa, why do you have to scare Dad like that?”

“What? Whatever are you talking about Lexie? I didn’t say a word.”

She slid down the arm and dropped next to him. “You don’t have to. He’s not a dummy, you know.”

“Alexandra, first of all, I refuse to be lectured by a child,” he held up his hand, “no matter how mature she *seems* to be. And second, I never under estimate your father. I know full well he’s an intelligent, and very observant man.” He went on in a softer tone, “The only fault your dad really has is he’s too trusting. He believes the best of everyone.”

Ripley nodded. That was *so* true.

“There is something about him, that seeks out even the tiniest bit of good in a person, and fans the flame. People *want to be good, work hard to be…to avoid disappointing him.” He gave her a crooked smile. “Tell your friends, they’re…more than welcome.”

“What, just like that? Without even—okay! Thanks Pop!” She leaped up from the sofa, and smeared a wet kiss on the very top of his head.”

“Alexandra--”

“I love you too, Pop!”

She heard him whisper, “I love you, so much…” as she ran towards Dad’s room.

******  
She knocked on his door, and looked in. he was bent over the desk, doing something with one of the photographs stacked on the tabletop.

“Dad…are you okay?”

He looked up, startled. “Of course…why?”

“I don’t know...” She walked over to him and looped her arm around his neck. “You looked a little sad, or…something.”

He smiled. “No, no, just thinking about, you know.” He gestured at table covered with paper and photos.

She squeezed him. “Love you, Dad. Please don’t worry, it will all be okay. Promise.”

“Oh. Lexie,” he sighed. “I hope so. I really do.”

She ruffled his hair, and scratched his scalp. “Go help Poppa get ready. You know, make snacks, lay out barbwire…”

Dad raised an eyebrow at her.

“Or, you know…frisk him--make sure he’s not strapped.”

“Out.”

“But Daa-aad…”

“Out!”

She left the room with a huge grin. He’ll think about that for a while, she thought.

******  
“Um…I’m supposed to help you get ready.”

Lex looked blankly at him for a moment, before handing him a bag of chips and a bowl.

“Don’t we have people to do this?” Clark struggled not to crush the chips to powder as he ripped open the bag.

Lex glanced over at him, before cutting precisely uniform slices of apples and cheese, and layering them on a tray. “Don’t be a snob, Clark, we’re perfectly capable of doing for ourselves occasionally.” He tilted his head, considered the arrangement of fruit and cheese and asked, “Didn’t Lexie tell you that weekends, there is no staff?”

He shook his head, and watched Lex garnish the tray. _Oh gosh…_ “Ah—middle schoolers tend to be a lot bigger on M &M’s and popcorn and coke than apples and cheese…”

Lex sighed and turned to face Clark, leaned against the counter, the movement pulling his shirt tight across his chest and shoulders, emphasizing the long lean stretch of his body. Clark fought the impulse to lick his lips, and had to lean back away from him. He felt himself kind of… slow motion toppling towards Lex. He took a step away and rearranged the apples left on the counter. Several times.

“Clark…” Lex hesitated, “Clark, you have to talk to Lexie. Explain to her that this little…plan of hers isn’t going to work.”

Clark blinked. “Plan? What plan? It’s not?”

Lex licked his lip slowly and said, “It’s not…”

Clark watched the path of the little moist, pink tip sweep across Lex’s lip, hesitate at the thin scar, and travel on. It took him a moment to answer—Lex tilted his head at him, considered him now….

“It’s not.” Clark said firmly, but couldn’t help it—he felt his eyebrows crawling upwards, and Lex’s own eyebrows rose.

“It’s really not…anyway, why don’t you tell me about this boy, this Greg, since you’ve already met him.” _instead of me_

Clark swallowed. “Well, he’s in her class…polite, seems thoughtful…cute…”

Lex raised an eyebrow impossibly higher and Clark blushed. “Well, our daughter should have good taste.”

Lex said sharply, “Yes, well, hopefully an appreciation of good looks is all she inherited from you.”

Clark didn’t protest, he just looked away, and flushed deeper. It was a little comment, but it hurt. Clark nodded, though. He would *never* wish his lifestyle on his child.

“Clark, Clark—that was uncalled for. I apologize, it’s nerves maybe, it’s been stressful at work lately, I’m—I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Popcorn?”

“Excuse me?

“Do you have popcorn?”

Lex looked a little lost, so they searched the pantry together, and found microwave popcorn tucked away on a shelf. Lex eyes it dubiously until Clark eased it from his hand.

As he opened the bag to microwave it, he said, “The other little boy is Irving. He’s very…”

“Clean?” Lex smirked.

“Odd.” Clark said emphatically. “Very odd. I’m not even sure if he can speak. He just sort of stares.”

“Maybe he was afraid of you—you’re very large. You tend to loom a bit.”

“I did my very best,”, he said with a grin, and Lex grinned back.

It was like being punched in the chest—but in a good way, like being punched with big soft gooey marshmallows. He tried not to grin even wider, happy that he made Lex lighten up again, and managed—just—from frisking about Lex’s ankles.

They headed out to the entertainment room, and Lex was pointedly putting the cheese tray on the coffee table, glancing at Clark smugly, and Clark was setting out the bowls of snacks, when his cell phone rang. He had an endless moment in which to regret his choice of ring tone for this particular type of call. It'd seemed clever at the time....

Lex glanced over, and the smile they’d shared earlier iced over slightly. “Clark, I had no idea you were a fan of Motown…”

Clark blushed, “Yeah, I–I like the oldies…”

Lex stared right into his eyes. “Interesting tune…”

“Ah….”

“I’ve always enjoyed Marvin Gaye…” Slow. Gray. Blink.

“Uh-hunh.” He had the phone out, trying to shut it off. His face was about to explode into flames, the phone kept ringing and he briefly considered just crushing the damn thing.

  
“[Sexual Healing](http://www.stlyrics.com/songs/g/gayemarvin14982/sexualhealing400433.html), isn’t it? Catchy.”

“Yeah,” Clark laughed, afraid he was about to burst into hysterical giggles.

“I thought I recognized it.”

“Can we talk about this sometime in the very distant future?”

“Your ‘friend’ is waiting for you, Clark.”

Lex left the room, and Clark shivered. The air around him was frigid. Fuck. And it had been going fairly well. He looked at the phone. Gosh. Colin. Colin was awfully…well hung, actually. Really hung. And it didn’t matter. He made a decision, right at that moment, with the strains of Sexual Healing in his ears. Rip was right. He needed Lex back. Lex needed him. All he had to do was convince Lex it was a good idea to take him back.

Sure. Easy.

Like for every step forward, he wasn’t taking two steps back.

  
He looked at the phone and sighed. Good-bye Colin…Geez, he had a cock like—he erased number after number--good-bye, Mike, Ace, Harry, Robert, Frank, Jimmy, Alf, Brandon, Ewald…oh God, he did this great thing with his tongue and fingers…good-bye, Chris, Rick, Maurice, Luis—good-bye all, he thought firmly.


	16. Chapter 16

The boys sat next to Ripley on the long leather couch. They kept a careful distance because Greg had seen and correctly identified the message in both her father’s eyes. It was one of the things that drew her to him, that he was so smart--that, and his amazingly good smell. Weird, how good he smelled—weren’t teen boys supposed to stink? Than again, Irving didn’t smell, not at all. He had no scent at all. Except every once in a while, she’d catch a faint whiff of Greg’s scent, or her’s…he seemed to have no personal scent—except after gym. Then, geez, *everyone* smelled. She tried to concentrate on the movie, but her eyes kept drifting to Greg. He seemed absorbed by the movie, smiling at the screen, laughing (and in all the right spots) eating microwave popcorn and seeming to be happy with it. He even seemed to enjoy the cheese and apple tray, courtesy of The Food Nazi.

Poppa moved back and forth across the doorway, engaged in pursuits that just happened to require him to pass the room…repeatedly.

Dad of course, didn’t bother with subtleties.

He’d just loom in the doorway and ask, “Everything okay?” which of course was meant to be translated as, _*try having sex with my daughter and I’ll maim you in ways you can’t even begin to imagine.*_

When he did ask, Greg would blush dark red and squeak out, “Excellent movie sir,” and Dad would scowl.

Irving—he’d wilt and press himself against the back of the couch, every time Pop glanced in the door, and smiled at them. She smiled at Irving. Clever, to see where the bigger threat lie…Irving looked at her, back at the empty doorway where Pop had just disappeared.

“Your…your fathers seem nice.”

“Yes, they do,” she said and beamed.

“I…so…Mr. Luthor… state senator. Gosh.”

“Um.” Now she watched Irving carefully. What did he want...had she made a mistake inviting him here?

“He’s going to be mayor soon,” she said, and watched his face. He sighed and nodded um-hum, but didn’t seem to have heard her really. Instead he said thoughtfully, “He’s tall. And bald.”

Rip blinked and replied “Ye-ees…” because it seemed there was no real response to a statement of the obvious.

“He doesn’t seem as old as I thought he’d be—your dad, either.”

Now Greg was watching Irving, who seemed to be about to…something. Tension filled the air.

Pop chose that moment to saunter into the room, holding a bowl of fruit. He walked like—well, that walk that Rip secretly practiced in her room when no one was around because hey—she was no dummy. She glanced past him. Dad was in the doorway with another bowl of chips, and a look on his face like he couldn’t wait for Christmas to come. She shuddered slightly and tried not to grimace. Not that his expression wasn’t encouraging to see, but ew. Parents—and…stuff--Ew.  
But a good sign. A positive sign.  
Maybe she should get him some napkins….

Pop said something to Greg that made him chuckle nervously, and Irving turned brick red and vibrated. She looked at him. Swore to god the kid was actually vibrating. When they left the room, Irving slumped a little.

“Your da—I mean, your Pop, he confuses me.”

“Join the club,” she muttered.

Irving sighed. “So confusing…”

She watched Irving watching the doorway, and all became clear. Poor kid. She glanced at Irving, glanced at Greg. Oh-oh. Even Greg knew. He looked down at Irving and grinned. Grinned at Ripley, and shrugged. Ripley felt a soaring sensation right about in the middle of her chest.

*****  
Clark watched Lex walk away from the entertainment room, and glanced back at the poor kid who was about to explode. Oh well, he’d learn to deal with it, Clark had.

He followed Lex, eyes on his ass. Deadly waves of sexy, that’s what it was; he gave off deadly waves of sexy. Lex seemed oblivious to the effect he had. Oh, he knew Lex was aware he could attract any one he cared to, but he didn’t seem to realize it was a natural part of him, not something he intentionally cultivated. And probably why he didn’t believe anyone who tried to tell him how attractive he was.  
Lex ignored the presence of Clark behind him. He busied himself doing…something, Clark couldn’t tell what, his mind sort of wandered whenever Lex bent over.

He leaned an elbow on the counter, watched and waited, the silence in the kitchen grew until he had to break it--he chuckled lightly and said, “I think Irving has a crush.”

Lex snapped impatiently. “Well, for God’s sake, don’t act on it.”

“On *you*, not me—and for crying out loud, I’m not a pervert.”

Lex actually turned to face him, and said, “On me? Don’t be silly. He’s what—fourteen, and I’m thirty…”

Clark waited with raised eyebrows. Lex scowled.

“You know exactly how old I am.” Lex turned his back on Clark and busied himself again. Clark grinned, hopped up on the counter, and ignored Lex’s breath of exasperation.

“Well, I remember being fifteen, and thinking an older guy I knew was everything I wanted to be: smart, confidant, sophisticated…I thought he might be dangerous, but if he was your friend, he’d be the best friend you could ever have. I think I idolized him.”

Lex sighed deeply. “I’m going out to the garden.” He grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and walked out to the rooftop. Clark waited a beat, and trailed after him. He didn’t know what else to do.

******

He was standing in the middle of the garden, looking up to the sky, which was just beginning to darken. On the horizon, a star glowed steadily, unwinking, and captured his attention...

“Mars,” Clark whispered and his warm breath flowed over the back of his neck, warmer even than the humid August air. . He managed to stop himself from shivering, but his body was intensely aware that Clark was behind him. The warmth he radiated, the space he occupied so aggressively…He took a drink, looked out over the garden. His eyes roamed over the unused sandbox, and single swing. Dying sunlight reflected from the pool surface, turned the white lounge chairs sitting around the pool faintly pink.

“Lex…”

He moved away from Clark, walked around the play area. “Someday soon, I’m going to have this removed, there’s really no need for it anymore,” he murmured and Clark nodded, making a noise of agreement.

“Lex, can I--”

“Here, Clark, these pots need to be moved. Can you help me—move that one here...”

Help consisted of Clark picking up the potted trees, and moving them to where ever Lex pointed, and rearranging decking squares to make new seating areas, focused on the pool, and not the play area. Lex watched, and made constructive comments, and felt a little hidden amusement whenever Clark bit his tongue instead of arguing with him. He found it entertaining, but finally he’d run out of little tasks to distract Clark with.

He wasn’t fooling Clark a bit, either.

“So, anything else?” he said, brushing potting soil from his hands. “Maybe you’d like me to clean out your stables by diverting a handy river into them? Pluck a few golden apples for you?”

Lex snorted. That *was* amusing. “I appreciate your help, Clark. Well,” he said looking around as lights blinked on here and there in the trees. “Time to go in, send Alexandra’s friends home.”

Clark smiled at him. “Can we please talk for a minute before we go back in? I have something I need to tell you.”

Lex stopped and stared at Clark. He looked him slowly up and down, and said coldly, and very firmly. “You’re pushing it, Clark. Let it go. Microwave popcorn and a smile doesn’t mean a damn thing.” He turned and walked quickly away. He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Clark was staring at him with the expression of—of--a kicked shar-pei.

“Lex,” he heard him call. “I just want to talk to you.”

“Clark, I don’t want to talk to you. We have nothing to talk about. I want you to help Alexandra and then, I’d like you to go back home. I’d like things to go back to the way they were. It’s better for everyone that things stay the same.”

******  
Instead of following him again, Clark lay on one of the lounges, arms folded behind his head. Okay, he was a little disappointed--admitted to himself that he’d hoped to end up here, certainly not alone—talking, and maybe, maybe touching a little but at least, talking.

He sighed heavily. Sure. This was Lex after all. Lex wasn’t going to give in that easily. Of course, he also had no right to breeze back into Lex’s life as if he’d only been gone for the weekend. But, Clark knew without a doubt that Lex couldn’t resist him. He couldn’t. All he had to do was be a little patient, and not push him too hard, and he’d take him back, and they’d be a family again. He lay back against the cushions, and watched the stars in the sky, and smiled.  
Soon.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> art by Laurab1

[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

The night of the thing—the play, Ripley was nervous and jittery. Clark listened to her do her lines and assured her she was amazing. She insisted on checking Clark’s outfit, making him dress and re-dress. She sat on his bed and threw shirts him, none of them red, or blue and for god’s sake, not flannel.

“Rip, it’s not like Pop doesn’t know what I look like, and it’s not like he’s going to be watching *me*—he’s going to be watching you—we both are.”

“See,” she said, leaped off the bed and grabbed a light, fine gauge cotton sweater out of his dresser drawer ” ---here put that on—that’s what you’re not supposed to be doing. Don’t watch me—watch him.” She looked at him critically and when he went to smooth down the hair that’s been pulled every which way by the neck of the sweater, she stopped him. “Leave it, it’s not bad like that.”

He shook his head. “Right now, I actually feel sorry for Greg.”

“What?” She stared at him with narrowed eyes. “I didn’t quite catch that…”

“Ha. Nothing...so, we’re taking the truck, right?”  
“God, no—the driver’s coming around to get me, I have to leave a little early. You’re supposed to meet Pop at the Tower.”

“Oh.” Clark nodded. “Okay. Give me a kiss, and let me give you a hug for luck.”

She leaned her cheek into him, let him kiss her and gave him a small hug too. “Good luck to you too, Dad.” She beamed at him, and leaving him blinded with love, skipped out.

*****  
After, they walked to the lot together, Lex and his indestructible family, alert and vigilant, Clark and Rip discussing the action on stage and behind stage, she clutching the bouquet of roses her Poppa had sent to her, and the single rose Greg had given her, the rose she pressed to her cheek from time to time as they walked.

Clark noticed that Lex was quiet on the way home, by the time they pulled into the garage at home, even Ripley noticed how quiet he was and glanced over at him. _what’s wrong_ she mouthed and he just shrugged. _don’t know._

They parked, and Lex locked the Benz and said, “I’ve got to go back to the office for a bit, but I’ll call you before you go to bed. You were wonderful tonight, I’m so proud of you.” He ran his fingers through her hair, and smiled a little when glitter drifted from her curls.

“But…but I thought we could get ice-cream or something awful and good for just for you—together…” Her brow wrinkled and Clark took a step towards her. This wasn’t quite how the evening was supposed to end—they should be talking about her performance, dissecting the show, laughing….

Lex sighed and shrugged his jacket off his shoulders. “Sweetheart,” he began and when both Rip and Clark turned to him, his face froze. His expression was still, but his cheeks held a tinge of pink. “We eat dinner together every night. Your dad, you and me, for the last two weeks we’ve had nothing but togetherness. That should be sufficient.”

She took a step back. “But, I wanted us to--” She looked back at Clark. _Do something._

“Alexandra. You know very well that I have other responsibilities. Sometimes, no matter what I choose, they take precedence over family matters. Your father and you can either go out together, or order something in. I really have to go.”

Clark stepped up, and reached out for Lex’s arm, “Lex, surely you can spare a few minutes, just a little bit, it’s a special occasion….”

“Don’t touch me, and really—don’t lecture me.”

“But Lex--”

And that was the one tiny push too far--Lex seemed to explode. Clark watched it happen like a silent film running in slow motion. The stainless steel briefcase he carried rose up, up, and impacted the windshield of the Benz, sank into it. Ripley let out a tiny scream, and Clark gasped—the world was moving again at normal speed, sound was back. The glass shattered with a hollow pop and the sound of crystal breaking, and the car alarm went crazy. Lex leaned against the car, staring at him--his eyes were frightening, so much so that Clark stepped back.

Lex took a step toward him, opened his mouth and just yelled, a frustrated, inarticulate shout of rage. He whirled around and slammed his briefcase into the side of the car, rocking it—his jacket hit the ground and he ignored it, stalked off, and he suddenly threw the case to the ground, as if he’d just realized it was in his hand. Ripley stood frozen for a moment before dashing after him.

“Rip, no!” Clark just missed holding her back, his hands closing on empty air.

She only ran as far as the briefcase, picking it up and holding it against her chest. Her eyes, he saw when she turned back to him, were wide and terrified, and swimming with tears.

He tried not to let his own hurt show, and held his arms open, she ran into them.  
She leaned against him and cried. “What’s wrong with him? Why did he do that? He’s never acted like that before, never.”

Clark realized Ripley had never seen her pop’s temper. She had no idea how violent it could be. Great. He had to be the one to bring something new and crappy into her life. “My fault,” he said, as he stroked her hair, and rubbed her back, trying to still her trembling. “All my fault. I—I’m going to pack. You really don’t need me here. You’re fine. I’ll leave in the morning.”

She rubbed her face against his chest and sniffed hard. “Don’t be dumb, Daddy. If you leave now, he’ll just think you don’t care.”

Clark murmured assent, but in the morning, he’d make sure to be gone. He didn’t need to cause everyone more pain than he’d already had. He pushed him too far, upset him and Alexandra, and he didn’t want to do that to either of them.

*****

He was just coming up the path towards the park bench he considered his. He’d walked around and around, and not even the morning sun filling him had lightened his spirits. He knew damn well he’d pushed a little too much, a little too soon, even after Lex told him not to…he stopped and inhaled.  
Hunh.

Lex was sitting on his bench, two coffees clutched in his hand, staring at the ground. He looked up when Clark came behind him, when he caught Clark’s eye, he slid down to make room for him to sit. He said, “We need to talk.”

Clark sank down next to him. “That’s what I’ve been saying all along.”

Lex handed him one of the cups, and rolled the other between his palms. He began to speak. “Clark. You don’t want to be with me again, not really.”

“I do. I wouldn’t be here if--”

Lex pointed his cup at human smiled sadly. “No, you don’t, it’s biology that makes you *think* you do.”

Clark gaped. “What?”

“Clark, how often did you think of me when you were…how often do you *usually* think of me?” Lex tilted his head at him, and waited.

 _everyday_ ”I’m not sure I get what you mean?”

“I mean that for the last two weeks you’ve been living with us, every day, you…well…you smell me. And I know what that does to you, hormonally. You know what it does. It’s a biological trigger, Clark. You imprinted on me when you were pregnant, my scent sort of sealed the deal so to speak, and now that you’re around me nearly nonstop—you have no control over your feelings. It’s perfectly all right, and natural for you. I apologize for my behavior the other night. I had time to think it through, and I know, you thinking you want to be with me--it’s not your fault. You can’t resist it anymore than—you could stop needing the sun, I guess.”

“So, you’re saying instinct is screwing with me. I’m like, what—a duckling or something? A slave to my instincts?”

He nodded and shook his cup a bit before letting his hand fall again. “Yes, that’s pretty much it. Again, I don’t blame you. As soon as you’re back in your apartment, this thing will fade and you’ll be fine again.”

“Fine again…this is like a—a—virus. Something to get over.”

“Exactly. When you’re home again and the influence wears off, Alexandra will understand. It’s a good thing in a way, she needs to understand that life isn’t like fiction…” He sighed. “God. I have *so* much apologizing to do to her. That was entirely selfish of me. I should never have let my emotions rule me like that—not in front of Lexie.” He turned towards Clark, seeming to notice how quiet he was. He looked at his expression, and read it completely wrong.

“Don’t worry, I will make it up to her, Clark. I promise you, I’ve never behaved so badly…in front of her…before.”

Clark shook his head. “Lex…right now, I wonder…how can you live like this?” Clark stood. “How can you just—beat yourself up like this? God…”

He walked away, and kept walking. He walked until he was back at his apartment, and once in the door, grabbed the phone, and opened windows, lay down on his bed. He called Ripley, and told her that he was home, that he’d pick her up in the morning for breakfast. He told her how much her loved her, and how sorry her Pop was, and to be nice to him when he groveled and he’d be groveling extra hard. He warned her to let her conscience be her guide and not to take advantage of it--he smiled when she laughed. They blew kisses, and he hung up and the smile evaporated from every bit of him. He was cold, and…and cold. He called…someone. A number….

*****

He met Stewart at the door and sent him back to the living room to sit. He walked into the kitchen, checked to see if anything left in his non-state of the art average fridge was even remotely edible. Some beer…a stick of butter. Suspicious yogurt. He looked around his kitchen and thought it was rather dark and small. Maybe he should have that wall taken out, open it up to some light…he dialed Lex’s cell.

“I’m with someone now. But if you tell me to send him home, I will.”

 _*Are you insane? Grow up.*_

Lex disconnected and Clark sighed, grabbed a bag of chips that hadn’t been opened yet and a couple of beers from the fridge.

******

Stewart was a good kisser, at least, he’d always thought of Stewart as a good kisser, but now that he was aware of it, Clark noticed--he smelled—wrong. His hand in Clark’s hair bothered him, his tongue felt—too big, or wide, or something. Clark nudged his knees apart and cupped him. It felt weird and wrong.

Stewart groaned and moved back from him. “Kent, what’s with the rush?”

“You’re right, you’re right.” Clark jumped up. “Oh hey, hey--lets get something to eat? What do you say?”

“What? You want to go out… together?” Stewart knew his place in Clark’s life—make out, order fat, dripping with everything pizza, drink really good imported beer and fuck like minks, then go home. Kent always had the best beer so… “Why?”

“Why not? Don’t you want to go out?” Clark was pulling his shirt back on as he shoved Stewart’s into his hand.

“Well, okay…” he looked confused, but buttoned his shirt back up. “Can I finish my beer?”

Clark went back to the bedroom to get his wallet, and called again. “Lex, we’re going out but if you tell me not to, Lex--”

“Jesus.” Lex hung up.

They had dinner, and throughout dinner Stewart did that foot thing, slipped his shoe off and rubbed his stocking foot over his cock, and that kind of surprised Clark because he’d always thought Stewart was a guy with no imagination and certainly not kinky like that. Or that interesting, really. Clark responded, funny smell or not. Stewart’s foot was warm and firm and Clark’s cock was aching by the time desert came.

He excused himself, went to the bathroom and called Lex again. “He wants to come home with me but if you tell me not to, I‘ll send him away.”

 _*What stupid game are you playing? Is this some sort of punishment for earlier, Clark?*_

“No! Just tell me not to fuck him, and I won’t.” Clark leaned his head against the stall wall. The moment he heard Lex’s voice, he went soft. His head hurt, his throat hurt…

 _*Clark—please stop calling. What you do--that’s your choice, not mine.*_

They left the restaurant, and headed to the Seasons because Clark didn’t really want Stewart back in the apartment with him. Clark reserved the room while Stewart stood by looking a little stunned and Clark realized confused was Stewarts default look—odd what a person noticed when they were possibly going insane--they went upstairs and Clark sent Stewart into the room. “Hold on one sec, man, I need to take care of something.”  
He stepped out into the hallway, and called.  
Again.

“Lex, what do you want. Tell me and I’ll do it.”

 _* Clark, you’re going insane. I have no idea what want from me, but I wish you’d stop bothering me with this—what ever the hell it is.*_

Clark went into the room. They ordered porn, giggled some and Stewart blew him. Clark stopped him when he thought he’d come. “Let me fuck you.”

Stewart groaned, “Shit Kent, sounds good to me.”

“Okay, I just need to--"

“Yeah, I know—take care of something—say, are you having some kind of bizarre phone sex with someone this whole time—‘cause if you are…that’s kind of sexy….”

Clark stopped and stared at Stewart. Wow, he’d had no idea that Stewart was such a huge freak…damn. Too bad.

He left the room. “–I’m in the bathroom, tell me not to fuck him,” he said breathlessly, “please…’

Lex hung up on him, and Clark rolled the rubber down on himself, took a deep breath, and the phone rang.

“Come home.”

“Okay.”

He dropped the rubber in the trash, and told Stewart the night was finished, but he could keep the room if he wanted. Stewart picked up the remote—“Cool, Kent. Say, can I order….”

“Just don’t break me, Stewart, okay?” He gave him a kiss before leaving the room.

“Hey, Stewart called after him. “Can we do this again some time?”


	18. Chapter 18

Lights were off in the penthouse. It was completely dark. He looked around and thought to use his vision but decided not to, he didn’t want to have any advantage….

He stepped into the living room and softly called out, “Lex…” into the velvet dark. His heart beat a little faster, his mouth parted. He wanted to breath in, to try and catch his scent. He didn’t. He walked slowly back to the bedroom because there was the smallest chance he was there. He could listen—but he had the feeling that wasn’t the thing to do either, not right at this moment.

He peeked into Ripley’s room and she wasn’t there, but knowing his daughter, he didn’t really expect her to be. There was a note on the bed, though. His name was on the blank side of a folded sheet of paper. He opened it, and fell into memories that had been buried as far down as he was capable of—that came back with a silent explosion of sensation and smell and touch and taste….

 _i carry your heart with me (i carry it in  
my heart) i am never without it…_ He sat on the edge of her bed and read it, remembered it, relived it.

He walked over to the closet and bent down, looked at the back, and smiled. He drew his hand over the rough spot on the back wall. Part of him had thought that when Ripley found the tapes, Lex might have erased this all—but no. Still there. All of it, even that crappy little drawing of a heart. He blushed. Geez. So…corny. So teenager in love. So meant with all his heart.

He walked out of her room and went to the only place Lex could be hiding. Or waiting.

He was sitting on a lounge chair, a piece of paper dangling between his knees. His head was tipped back, and Clark inhaled as quietly as he could and Lex said, “I remember sitting out here and wondering what I’d done to deserve such happiness. To deserve you and Alexandra. Now…I just wonder.”

Clark walked around the chair, and stood between Lex and the darkness. “Where is our daughter?”

He glanced at Clark. “At her grandparents—no, no, everything’s okay. She just wanted to spend the weekend…they asked…somehow I’m sure with a little prodding, from a certain scheming little redheaded girl. By the way, your mother says hello,” he murmured, “and wants us both to come to dinner next weekend. Apparently, there’s peach pie…is it a foregone conclusion for everyone except me?”

Clark smiled and nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Can I come home—stay home?”

“I don’t know, Clark. Are you finished with the torture?” But his eyes were soft as he spoke; his face was…soft, open. His mouth tightened a little, curved in that bow that signaled, ‘don’t take what I say next completely seriously’…”I know I used to have a reputation in my youth, Clark, but it’s been eons.”

“That wasn’t torture, Lex. I wanted to know…didn’t you want to know?” Clark shoved his hands into his pockets. He wanted to touch him so bad.

Lex lay back and crossed his legs. He folded his arms under his head, and Clark growled a little, deep in his chest. Lex’s back arched a little against the cushions, he stared up at Clark. “I did. I do know. Those things I said to you earlier--I wasn’t ‘beating myself up’ as you put it…”

Clark raised an eyebrow, his lips tightened into a skeptical line. _Oh, really? Oh, no. Not you._

Lex continued. “…I wanted you to think about it. To give you a way out if…” He sat up again, all teasing gone; all playfulness wiped away. He stared into Clark’s eyes; his own the color of smoke and ice. He said, “You need to know this, Clark. If you come back, I’m not letting you go. Again.”

“I don’t want a way out. I want in. And that smell thing—that’s just stupid. I’m not a beagle---I know what I want. And I want you. “

Lex smiled up at him. “Well. All right then.”

Clark grinned. “Good—shall I move my stuff in--”

Lex poured himself…up. Clark marveled at the fluid movement, he couldn’t imagine any one else could move that way, like liquid silk. Lex flowed past him, and smiled over his shoulder as he walked away. “That’s something we can talk about later.”

Clark was nodding furiously, his body following Lex while his mind blanked out completely, Lex’s hips gliding smoothly in front of him the only thing it could process.

Lex stopped and glanced at his watch. “Well, it’s time for me to turn in. Good night, Clark, I’ll see you in the morning.”

Clark stared after him, his mouth open…what just happened? Where was the make up sex—the fucking ten years worth of make up sex he kind of thought he was going to be having tonight?

He plopped down onto the lounge and grabbed one of the pillows that were full of Lex. He breathed in deep, and wondered sadly if Mom had any pie right now.

He rolled off the lounger and walked inside, headed down the hall towards the bedrooms. He should at least tell Lex good night.

He opened his door and called softly, “Are you asleep?”

Just as softly Lex called back, “I was until a huge gallumping alien woke me up.”

Clark grinned. “Can I come in? Since you’re awake and all?”

“I suppose.” Lex slid up until he was pressed against the headboard. “Come on in, Clark.”

Clark stood in the doorway. “I will—I’m just looking.” He smiled as he did just that. Lex was very pale in the moonlight coming in through the window, the sheers tinting the light, his skin, a pale lilac, Lex was framed by the gold and navy pillows on his bed.  
He looked like…sex.

Clark walked in slowly, almost fearfully. He inhaled and closed his eyes to do it again. There was nothing in the room except Lex, light hint of Ripley, the staff…no one had ever been in this room except family—except Lex.

“Why, why didn’t you ever start over with someone else?” He was almost beside Lex now, his fingers curled against his legs, even asking the question hurt.

Lex shrugged, and it was a liquid movement against the sheets that Clark couldn’t tear his eyes from. “I didn’t need anyone else. Want anyone else. I had Lexie to care for, you…what else was there?”

Clark was closer still and put one hand on the bed. “Can I kiss you goodnight?” he asked.

Lex looked at him for a moment that seemed to spin out forever.

“Yes,” he said. “You can kiss me.”

Clark leaned a little closer and barely touched his lips to Lex’s. Lex breathed out, warm breath flowed against his lips and Clark sighed.

“Oh, Lex. Can I *kiss* you?”

Lex reached up a hand, slid it through the tangle of black curls until his palm cupped the base of his skull. Lips met, soft and gentle, pressed a little and gave a little. Clark thought he’d never had so sweet a kiss. It was innocent, sweet like candy, like the first kiss you got from someone who made you blush. He sank to his knees by the side of the bed, and Lex urged Clark forward. The kiss deepened a little, Lex moved back slowly and Clark followed, rising off his knees, not wanting to loose contact with lips, skin, warm…

…waves of warmth swept him, and he was so hard, just from kissing, no--had been hard since he knocked on the door really…since he’d talked to Lex on the patio. Lex moved, touched the tip of his tongue to the bow of Clark’s lip, he licked along the full curve of his lower lip, and Clark gasped---Lex sucked gently at the full curve, slid the tip of his tongue over and in and it was cool, and then warm inside his mouth. Clark shivered, pressed forward, tried to deepen the kiss but Lex controlled it, kept it slow and maddening. Clark whined into the kiss and Lex’s hands tightened in his hair, his heartbeat sped up.

His voice was a little harsher when he asked, “More?”

Clark gasped and nodded. _more, more right now—_

Lex kissed, harder, his hand twisting viciously in Clark’s hair, and Clark moved into it. His mouth opened and invited Lex to do the same, their tongues slid, and pushed against each other, wet and hot. Clark struggled to crawl up onto the bed and not lose a second’s contact with Lex’s mouth.

The kiss changed, less gentle, less exploring—demanding, and much, much less innocent. Oh shit, not like candy, not anymore, Clark thought—like wine, like champagne….

Clark crouched over Lex on the bed—Lex reached up and grabbed his ears, hard, making Clark yelp and laugh in surprise. Yanked his head down and kissed him bruisingly hard—Clark’s cock throbbed hard with each mauling kiss.

Lex’s cock pressed the sheet into his belly, the fabric was soaked through. It felt good and he rubbed himself against it. He was shuddering, he was trembling, he was going to come in his pants like a kid—Lex jerked his chin down and bit down violently on his lower lip-- “Oh, Fu—“ He jerked and moaned and Lex let it slide from between his perfect white teeth and if he’d been human, they’d both be covered in blood—“Never, never, never, I swear!” Clark babbled in answer to the question Lex had yet to ask and Lex used his ears again to pull him against his wet forehead, almost sobbed.

“You can’t, you can’t ever leave me again, I’ll never let you--” With a snarl, he threw Clark to his back on the bed, and Clark let him move him anyway he chose, gave no resistance, he was grateful putty in Lex’s hands, ready to give him everything. Anything.

Fuck, it felt so good, not to be in control….

Lex laughed a little, quick and breathless and Clark realized he’d said it out loud.  
Good.

“Oh, no, no, you’re really not…” Lex ripped at his clothes, tore his shirt, and buttons flew everywhere, before they landed, he’d ripped Clark’s t-shirt to pieces. Lex ran his hands over Clark’s skin, stopped with his fingers curled just over the waistband of his jeans. Clark spread his legs and wiggled under the weight and heat of Lex’s gaze, happily grinning up at him. Lex growled, “God, I want to fuck you—I want to start at your toes and just fuck every inch of you.” He bared his teeth at Clark and Clark laughed—groaned. How could he not have known how much he’d missed this, how much he’d needed Lex all the years that passed—

“Fuck me, then.”

“No.” Lex shook his head and clawed his way back up Clark’s chest, “Not yet.”

Clark shuddered and Lex flicked his nipples, twisted them, pinched them, hard, hard, hard.

“*I* know how hard you need this to be,” he whispered and Clark nodded, and just managed to stop himself from twisting on the sheets. Lex knew, Lex knew everything; Lex would take care of him….

Wet silky tongue traced cool trails between the pebbled points, and then “Touch me,” Lex said. He leaned back on his heels, knees open and spread on either side of Clark’s torso. His knees were pinning Clark’s arms down, but it didn’t matter--not when Lex was doing…what he was doing. Lex ran hands down his own body, touched himself as he told Clark what he wanted him to do, did it to himself as he spoke. Clark thought that Lex was certainly no slouch when it came to torture—this was Lex’s version of punishment and—oh. Pre-come dripped onto his chest--Lex leaned back and groaned, bit his lip, and Clark was caught up in he sight, the motion, of his hand moving over his cock.

“Lex…” Clark’s cock was trapped painfully against his fly. He trembled and begged Lex to let him move. “Please, I have to…” he panted, licked his lips over and over, drawing air in over his tongue….

“You’re tasting me, aren’t you?” Lex smirked. He pushed his fingers into Clark’s mouth, and Clark groaned, his eyes squeezed shut and he gave himself up to the taste, the feel—he licked frantically, sucked Lex’s fingers like candy. Even with his eyes closed, tears spilled.

He drew back, gasping as Lex’s fingers slid out of his mouth. “I need this, I need you—please!“

“Not yet.” Lex slid down his legs, and bit along the zipper of his jeans, bit at the heat pressed against it. He ripped the zipper open, and yanked the jeans down; red welts streaked down Clark’s thighs and disappeared again. Clark cried out, his cock slapped against his belly and rose, spinning a thin slivery thread of pre-come out from tip to belly, and Lex leaned over and caught it on his tongue.

“Oh fuck, Lex, stop before you kill me…”

Lex cursed, moved away. “Get on your knees.”

Clark looked at him, took a deep breath—and arched, came so hard, the huge, heavy, ultra modern, and in Clark’s secret opinion, ugly chrome and cherry wood bed shook with each spurt.

Lex glanced down at the dripping lace of white across his chest, his legs, and grit his teeth. Grabbed the base of his cock, squeezed. Hard. “Shit…” he reached out and wrapped a hand around Clark’s hip and shoved. “Move—fast--damn it!”

Clark rolled to his belly, and groaned when his sensitive cock rubbed against the silk, when Lex bumped slick and hot over his hole, howled when Lex pushed into him, in and deep and making him feel hot, so heavy, like thick electricity was crawling under his skin.

Lex grabbed his hips as hard as he could and fucked him like he was about to die, and he was going to get off before he did. “Fuck--Clark—I’m not—shit--going to last—“

“Yes, yes, come, come!” Clark was dripping sweat, burning up, he cried when Lex grabbed a fistful of his hair and snarled, “I’m going to fucking come all over you, come on you--” he pulled out, and yelled, and Clark felt a hot spill on his back, felt it run down his twitching ass, drip on his legs and felt Lex drop on him, drape himself over him, spent, exhausted….

“You’ve got one minute before I fuck you again,” Lex gasped out breathlessly.

“Oh, sure…one minute…unh-hunh.” Clark chuckled, breath coming short and sharp. His cock was already hard again, and he was happy, happier than he’d been in years and years.

Lex crawled up over him and bit his cheek. Kissed his cheek. “You’re sure? This *is* what you want?”

Clark dropped flat on the bed, willing Lex’s weight to hold him down. He smiled against the pillow, heard a pleased little hum deep in Lex’s chest. “Fuck, yes. Fuck, yes.”

Lex rolled him to his back, and Clark protested—The sheets—I’m all messy--”

“Don’t worry about the sheets, Clark—we have lots and lots of sheets.” He slid his cheek over Clark’s erection. “You cheated me before, let me--” he licked a broad, hot stripe up Clark’s cock, making him tremble. “Do you remember, the first time?” he asked and rolled his tongue over the crown. Lex’s mouth on his cock was warm, his head pillowed on his thigh was warm, and Clark groaned, “Yes. Yes, I remember.”

He remembered Lex showing him how beautiful he was and the first time he’d ever gotten fucked and the first time he’d made love to the person he was meant to be with for all his life.

Lex drew his lips Clark’s flexing shaft and told Clark what he’d told him then. “Your dick is beautiful, perfect, your body, everything about you…” he mouthed the length a little firmer, more purposefully, and Clark shuddered, and whimpered. Lex kissed the tip of his cock, licked around the crown, fisted his cock and moved his hand up, and down, and Clark found his hips rising to met his movements and when Lex’s fingers reached under his balls he shivered all over, goose bumps rising, because he was back in that moment, years ago, the first time…Lex’s thumb in him and his hand over that—that ridge and making him come so hard he cried…

And here they were, ten years later and Lex hissed into his ear, like he did that day, “Who else fucked you Clark—who else?”

Clark arched, pulled Lex up his body and twisted under him, until his cock was nudging his hole.

“No one—no one—just you.”

“I don’t believe you.” Lex groaned against his chest, “I don’t believe you.”

“Lex, god, believe me—I’ve only ever been yours, you own me, you always have.”

Lex pushed in and shuddered. He sawed in and out, slow, then fast, hard; and then, so gentle it made Clark grind his teeth and struggle to keep from screaming at him to move harder, faster. He caught Lex’s eyes and moaned, “You know you own me.”

Lex groaned through clenched teeth and laughed, “Fuck that, Clark—I belong to *you*, you marked me, you *ruined* me for any one else on this planet.”

Clark felt Lex’s cock swell, jerk--it felt huge and hot inside him—Lex froze and with a shudder that worked right down to the head of his cock he came again, and Clark came with him, a hot flood that splashed between the both of them, marked the both of them….

  
*****  
The room was dark, and warm and felt cottony all over him. He snuggled closer to smooth back pushed against him. Lex’s ass was pressed against his crotch and he sighed. Felt good. He could sniff him and lick him all he wanted, and *that* felt good.

“I’m serious,” his soft voice startled Clark—he’d thought for sure he was deeply asleep. “What I said before, I meant it. I can’t go through anything like that again.”

Clark held Lex a little tighter. “I made a choice, okay? The first time, it wasn’t so much a choice as desperation--”

Lex huffed, but Clark went on, “It was—I was scared and desperate and you took my hand and made it safe for me. Back then, I was a kid. Now…I choose you, and all of you, everything. I love you.”

Lex was quiet; Clark felt his heart beat steadily against the palm he held to his chest.

“Um. I understand. Good. All right, Clark. We’re at square one again.”

“No, not really. You and I both know there are changes…we’re different people, both of us. We need to get to know each other all over again.”

“Right…first, you need to get rid of *all* those numbers. And we need to be seen in public together, we need to…”

Clark lay in the dark, grinning, listening to the wheels of the Luthor machine begin to turn. No doubt Lex would make this a public relations triumph…he ran his fingers over interesting places and listened to Lex stutter slightly—could he make him lose his train of thought all together? He licked the back of his head, and Lex shivered.

“If you keep that up, I’m really going to have to fuck you again.”

“See? You’re not the only one with a plan,” he whispered against Lex’s shoulder.


	19. Chapter 19

Ripley and Greg wandered through a second hand shop a few blocks from the apartment, a place they hung out at from time to time. There were great bargains to be had, and it was fun hunting for them—sometimes she found great stuff for Dad and Pop and now, she thought, glancing over at Greg from under lowered eyelashes, she had someone else to find great stuff for.

They took their time, poked through shelves of old-fashioned boxes full off odd pieces: jewelry, cards, little plastic toys, tangible memories from ages past. Ripley loved these things, loved thinking about what they’d meant to some long ago someone.

”Hey, Lexie, look at this!” Greg held up a leather thong. A silver skull with black chips of glass for eyes hung lop-sided from it. “Look—Irving would like this, I bet.” He made a face at the skull. “It’s got great creepy eyes.”

“Yeah, he would—oh, look! A book of poems—Poppa loves old books.” She picked up the book, petted the worn blue leather cover, traced the gold leafed title. She glanced up at Greg, pushed a stray curl behind her ear. A wide smile wrinkled her nose. “ Guess what? I’ve got great news.”

Greg grinned and took a step closer. “I figured something was going on, you’ve been practically vibrating all morning. Tell me!”

“My dad’s are dating each other again.”

She looked so happy Greg had to hug her. “Hey, that is great! After that time you called, with the windshield, and the yelling--I wondered if maybe…you know. Ka-plooey?”

She nodded, “Oh yeah, I have to admit, that stuff shook my confidence---I wasn’t sure that everything wasn’t falling apart.” She shuddered, and laid the book back down on the little table she’d picked it up from. Greg took her hand, eased his fingers around hers.

She squeezed him, delicately, and swung their hands just a little. “But, ever since I found that poem--the one I told you about--I knew that they were supposed to be together, like destiny, you know, like when you see someone and there’s this instant connection and sometimes you don’t even know it because it takes something else to show you that it’s real--”

Greg smiled. “Unh-hunh.”

“—and it’s meant to be, I mean, come on—Pop and Dad? Really, they’re like Alexander and Hephaestion, only without the god-awful wigs and all they needed was a push back together, and then—pow!”

Greg looked unsure and slowed the swing of their hands. “Uhn-hunh. Well, so far, it’s been mostly pow, hasn’t it?”

She grinned, a wicked little grin that made weird and lovely things happen to his stomach. “Remember that weekend when I suddenly ran to my grandma’s?” she smiled a little wider and blushed.

“Yeah—oh! Ew—I mean, oh really?”

He looked distinctly uncomfortable and she shrugged. _Right, right…different ways of looking at things—patience and empathy, very important virtues…_ “Well, let’s say that they both looked a lot happier when I came back, and they’ve spent a lot of time together since then. Non ‘yelling storming off calling old boyfriends’ time. And…Dad and Pop went looking for a new vehicle for Dad.” She stared at him with an enormous grin and Greg knew he was supposed to see that as very significant.

“Oh, unh-hunh. Cool.”

“I just know that they’ll be *together* together again soon. I can tell, Poppa is so happy now. And Dad…” she shook her head. “Boy, I’ve never seen him just—glow, you know.” She looked at him, her cheeks pink and her lips bowed in the biggest smile.

“Glow…yeah.” He smiled back

*****  
Ripley lay on the couch, her feet against the back and her head on the coffee table. Poppa wandered into the room, stopped and breathed. With extra pointedness.

 _Oh crap…_

“Alexandra. That’s no way to treat furniture. Other people use that table you know, and as lovely as your hair is, I doubt anyone would appreciate knowing you used a surface reserved for foodstuffs and the like to rest your head…”

“Poppa, geez…” _what a long-winded way to say get your head the hell off the table._ The phone rang and thankfully his attention was diverted elsewhere for the moment.

“Clark!” His face lit up, and he was already walking away, the crime of head on table completely forgotten.

 _Score—saved by the bell,_ she grinned. She let the sound of him chatting relax her, his voice soothing and warm—but the tone of his voice changed, and instantly worried, her hearing sharpened a bit.

“Oh. Oh—no, no—I’m a little disappointed but I understand. Of course I do. Call me first chance you get. Yes, me too.” Pop came strolling back, looking a little down, his mouth soft, the way it got when he was as little sad. He looked over at her and sighed.

“Well—your dad sends his love and he’ll call you, but he got rather a sudden opportunity to fly out with a search and rescue team--research for the new book…” Poppa looked so sad that she sat up and motioned him over to her. He walked over with a little smile and she bounced up and hugged him, and held his head in her hands.

“I love you, Pop--hey, let’s call Uncle Jor and ask if he’d like to join us for dinner—what do you think?”

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” He smiled. “And thank you, but you know, I really am fine, sweetheart.” He pushed the hair back from her forehead before kissing her, and headed to the closet to retrieve his coat. “I’ll pick up something for dinner and no, it’s not going to be pizza, or anything else dripping with grease—it’s going to be real food—not that stuff your dad thinks is food.”.

Gosh the sooner Dad moved back the better—The Food Furher was driving her nuts.

******

After dinner, Poppa went to select a movie to for them to watch that evening and Uncle Jor helped her to clean up the kitchen.

He bent over to load the dishwasher, and Ripley popped leftovers in labeled containers and shoved them in the fridge. “You know,” he said, “in my house I have people who do this kind of thing for you.”

“Helps build character, Pop says.” She contemplated the carefully stacked, color coordinated plastic containers behind the glass-doors of the fridge. Pop liked a neat presentation in the fridge. She definitely planned to ask Dad to talk him onto buying a new fridge. With solid steel doors. Big, black, solid steel doors.

Jordan laughed. “Yeah, like he ever in his childhood life lifted a finger to clean a damn thing.”

“I think he gets it from Grandpa, and from watching Dad do chores and stuff when he was a kid out on the farm.”.

“Rich folks get some strange ideas,” he said, shaking his head.

She stared at him in disbelief “Look who’s talking!”

“Yeah, but I used to be poor—we had to do all our own stuff—in fact, we were so poor--”

“Oh, my gosh—don’t even try it, Mr. Spoiled Rotten.”

Jordan looked offended. “That’s ‘cause my parent were old and tired by the time I was born. They had to pay me off to shut the hell up, instead of chasing me down and kicking my ass. Anyway--looks like your insidious plan to pull those two knuckleheads together worked and wow--” He fixed her with a steely glare, “I didn’t even have to die.”

“Yeah,” she said thoughtfully.

“Well, damn girl—you don’t have to sound like you’re sorry,” he huffed.

She slid her arms around his waist and leaned her chin on his chest, grinned up at him. “Oh gosh no, I’d miss you, and besides, who’d buy me ice cream and hotdogs? Well, besides Greg, but he can’t afford as many as you can.”

“Hmm. About that boy. I want to know…everything. And do your dads know his people?”

“Yes! Worrywart. And besides the most important thing is…he’s awfully cute…and sweet. Just like you.”

Oh please, you must think I’m terminally stupid. Good suck up, though.”

“Thank you. Seriously though—he’s really cute….”

******  
After the movie, after Lexie was in bed and Jordan was sound asleep in the guestroom, Lex sat in his study and watched video of the earthquake tearing Turkey apart. Clark was there and even though he was perfectly safe, Lex knew how being in the path of suffering affected Clark. He knew that he took every tragedy personally and felt driven to help in some way. It was why he idolized the people in service fields—firemen, policemen, rescue workers of all sorts…the new book was all about Clark’s love affair with public servants. Lex shook his head—from the people who waited on tables and the guys who manned the tollbooth to cops and doctors…Lex sighed. Clark loved people—needed people, he had to help in some way. He shook his head. Clark’s whole problem was that he saw events like this earthquake as aberrations, attacks, instead of just…life-- the luck of the draw. His whole problem lay in thinking that there were solutions for every thing.

“Hey, you still up? Not worried, are you? He’s fine...”

Jordan stood in the doorway, scratching his sides, and yawning wide. “Whacha doin?”

He padded over to the couch and dropped down, making it creak almost as much as Clark did. He peered at the screen, and Said, “Oh. Oh man…that looks bad…Clark must be just about ready to lose his mind.” He turned to Lex. “You really should help him figure out how to do what he should be doing. Don’t look confused at me—you know exactly what I mean.”

“Clark’s doing just what he should be---he helps by fostering positive opinions about the people who are *trained* to handle crisis like this—he--”

“Fuck that, are you that selfish? You’re not the only one who needs him and besides—why else would he have the abilities he has? To open jars for you? Keep your coffee hot? The world needs him.”

Lex glared at Jordan. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Clark is fine doing what he does. Don’t interfere. And for god’s sake—could you remember you’re a guest and treat me with at least *some* respect? Stop lecturing me.”

“Shit, I respect the hell out of you.” Jordan lay back against the arm of the couch, his arms folded, and totally unconcerned about the glare Lex had trained on him. “I’m just trying to tell you, be careful. You just got him back. You don’t want to lose him again by being an asshole. You are kind of good at that.”

Lex sighed deeply and stared up at the ceiling, mentally counting to a thousand….

Jordan grinned and said, “Okay, right now you’re asking yourself why you stopped yourself from cleaning house all those years ago.” He snorted. “Too late now,” and Lex rolled his eyes and kicked him.

“Clark wouldn’t leave—he’s not ever going to leave again. He promised.”

Jordan looked at Lex for a long moment. “Well, Lex, than you’d better make sure his promise doesn’t destroy what you have. It’s a two way street, you know?” He stood and kissed Lex on the head, and grinned briefly when Lex automatically wiped at his head and frowned. He walked off, stopping at the doorway to raise an eyebrow pointedly before going back to bed.

Lex stared after him. He had no idea why everyone pointed at *him* when Lexie displayed annoyingly meddlesome behavior…

Well. He stretched, and yawned. He should probably put wheels in motion as far as disaster relief. Lexcorp reaching out would be excellent PR…he sighed. And of course, more importantly, it was the right thing to do.

He frowned. Damn it. Jordan was right. Alexandra was right. Clark had a purpose here, whether he was truly aware or not. He had a mission and the tools to carry the mission out and fuck it—he was going to have to share Clark with the world.

He stood and walked to his bedroom, thinking. Fuck. Sharing was something he’d learned over the years to tolerate. Barely. Now, it obviously was about to become a way of life.

He was about to pass his daughters bedroom and stopped, touched the door. Thank goodness, he had an excellent teacher.


	20. Chapter 20

  
  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

Art by [](http://laurab1.livejournal.com/profile)[**laurab1**](http://laurab1.livejournal.com/)

Working on the book about everyday heroes had taken his photographer, Calvin, and himself to a lot of out of the way places, some had been unpleasant, but nothing was as bad as this.

The earthquake had been a devastating one; lots of rescue crews from the States, from all over, had volunteered to help. They went about their business, and on the whole ignored the television crews, newspaper reporters and freelancers like Clark, doing what they’d been trained to do.

Clark climbed around piles of rubble, smoke and ash thick in the air. His hair under the helmet was matted and clogged with dust. The handkerchief tied around his neck was actually wet with sweat--he was dirty, reeking, and he was tired, but knew he wasn’t even close to being as bone weary and worn as the men around him were.

The earthquake had leveled blocks, and he had to ignore the hundreds of voices calling out for rescue, for help…he could hear screaming, all the time. The smell….

“How do you people do it?” he muttered to himself, looking out over the crushed landscape. Humans: fragile, weak, so fucking breakable, so stupidly brave... “How do you get out of bed, and face this each day?” There were men around him, grown men, with the tracks of tears scoring lines through the dirt and ash smeared across their faces, exhaustion and fear wearing them down. He could feel tears drying on his own face, the frustration of trying not to make a mistake, of trying to deal with all of it on a human level bringing it’s own type of exhaustion to him. They all worked on, not stopping to wipe their faces, not wasting time on useless embarrassment.

The man next to him, thinking Clark was speaking to him, shrugged. “You just do. You get the fuck up and do it and you do it the next day, and the next day and the day after that. It’s what you do, that’s all.” He looked out over the smoking landscape; crumbled flattened buildings, ash and smoke in the air turning the sun into a bloody ball high above them.

Calvin climbed over a small rise of debris, told him he was turning in for the night—unless Clark wanted more shots at night of the crew? Clark shook his head, and told him to get some rest--they’d be ready to leave in the morning.

He watched him go, sighed heavily and tapped the guy who’d been standing next to him, on the shoulder. “Can I...can I ask you a few questions?” And felt a deep sense of shame. This man was doing everything he could and he—he was asking questions—knowing that in a few hours, he’d be back in Metropolis, safe, clean warm, holding his happy, healthy daughter, talking to Lex—touching Lex….

“Right, right—you’re the guy who’s writing that book.”

“This isn’t for the book so much, as it’s for me,” he said. The guy looked at him, dirt making his face an unreadable mask. His eyes were cold, narrowed at Clark, but after a moment, he nodded, and some life came back into them. “Sure, come over here, out of the way.”

They headed to a little huddle of tents, and the guy wet a rag and rubbed it over his head and neck. He offered Clark water, which he refused. He grabbed a meal from a tent manned by more volunteers and went off into the darkness at the farthest edge of the work area. Lights on towers lit up the darkness as they came on one by one and they sat, and Clark watched him eat. Gray was his name, and he ate without a word, and Clark was quiet until he finished.

Gray lit up a cigarette after he was finished, and smiled in a bitter way, shrugged, when Clark grimaced a bit. The night sky reflected red back from the fires on the ground in the distance, sirens bleated like they had all day, all night long.

They talked and talked, and after a while, Clark just held him and let him cry. After Gray fell asleep, he left the tents and walked and walked. Far out of the ring of lights, the crush of people, the smell and sound, he walked and he thought. He talked to heroes every day, talked to people who put their bodies on the line—as fragile as porcelain, precious. Lives given in service of others, lives that might not have been lost if someone like him was on the lines with them….

Clark had spent months interviewing rescue workers across the country, in other nations—at the scene of fires, of earthquake and landslides and flood. He’d been knee deep in filth and gone days without being able to clean himself, he’d spent nights in emergency wards, on streets that rivaled photos of old Dresden in ancient newsreels--he’d been as close to these men and women as he could. He’d known all this—but tonight—he *knew* it.

He ran out into the darkness, and headed back to the current site, and began to work.

“Hey, is that a voice over there?”

‘There’s something here!” Clark’s voice called out over the rubble, again and again, pointing out an impossible rescue here, pulling immovable rubble aside there, working so fast that he was invisible, unknown.

He came from that job knowing he had to do something to help—something personal, real.

There was only one person he knew who could help him do that.  



	21. Chapter 21

  
[   
](http://pics.livejournal.com/roxymissrose/pic/000277sk/)

Art by [](http://laurab1.livejournal.com/profile)[**laurab1**](http://laurab1.livejournal.com/)

The sun was just beginning to dip a bit, and Clark brought two mugs of coffee out to the porch. He sat and handed one to his dad. Took a sip from his own. The air had a bit of a chill to it, and Jonathan was glad of the steaming coffee. He held it between his hands, and relaxed, warmed by the coffee and the welcome presence of his son.

“Dad…I’ve been thinking…”

Clark stopped, sighed so deeply that Jonathan glanced over at him. What he saw made him put his cup down. His son looked—tired, so much so that it made him sit up, reach out to him. Clark never looked tired, hardly ever looked older than the teen that’d left home all those years ago. Today, though, he looked every single one of his years.

Jonathan put his hand over Clark’s and squeezed. “Son, if there’s anything you want to tell me, I’m here to listen, help if I can.”

Clark nodded. “I’m a little nervous. I’m about to ask Lex to help me do something, something that’s more important than anything I’ve ever done before.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow, and twisted to look Clark in the eyes. “Clark, it’s a sure bet Lex will do anything for you. He’d follow you to the ends of the earth, if you wanted him to. If you ask him to help you, whatever it is, you’ll make him happier than you can imagine.”

There was a creak on the porch behind them and his grand daughter was there, standing behind her dad—she winked at him. She was smiling wide, her eyes were dancing and he could see Clark in her, the green eyes, the completely irresistible smile. It made him… happy. She was beautiful, she made the family happy, hell, she brought the family back.

And by the look on her face, she’d been eavesdropping. Again. He was pretty sure where *that* trait came from.

She leaned against Clark’s broad back and rested her chin on his head. “Dad…Poppa’s been waiting forever to hear you say you need him.”

“Ripley—you know too much. Are all thirteen year olds this nosy—and this smart?”

“Nope. I’m special. Just like my dads.” She scratched his head hard, before plopping down to squeeze between the two of them and wrap her arm through Clark’s. She asked, “What’s the deal…what are you going to do?” Jonathan waited for the answer with great interest. Clark was obviously dying to tell him—something. “Yeah, son, what is on your mind?”

Clark took a deep breath. He stood and motioned Jonathan over to him.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at Ripley, handed her his mug and rose off the steps, groaned a little. “This better be good, Clark.” He put his hands in the small of his back, and ignored the little snickers behind him. “It takes me longer and longer to get up from that darn step and I usually head right on upstairs to my very warm and very comfortable bed…” _and very warm wife, but that’s nobody’s business but my own._

“Dad—I have something I want to show you.”

Jon had a flash of memory—Clark at five, just having discovered the barn cat had had kittens, and wanting him to come see, so excited—he grinned, it was funny, and a little sad, to see the same look, shining out of his grown son’s eyes….

Jonathan walked over to Clark, and he grabbed his arms, hugged him close and Jon hugged back, surprised and pleased. He heard a little gasp, and turned his head to Rip, who was gazing up at him in awe. Up. Her head was tilted back…really…far…back…and he was…

“Fuck, Clark!”

“Dad!” They dipped and wobbled and Clark’s cheeks burned. “Language, Dad!”

Jonathan grabbed Clark’s collar and wrapped his arms around his neck. “Holy—crap, Clark—since when—you can--FLY?”

Clark laughed a little. “Since a few days ago. I was running across the field, looking up at he sky and–and I was in the air. I wanted to be up there, and suddenly—I was. It ws like—the most natural thing in the world.”

They swooped up into the air, and gently floated upward, until the road was below them, and Jon could see the roofs of their distant neighbors. “Clark…what happened to a fear of heights?”

Clark laughed, “It just—just went. The moment I was in the sky, I was fine. Better than fine, I was great.” He smiled at Jonathan’s skeptical look. “Really.”

Clark turned a bit so that Jonathan could see all of Smallville below them. “See those lights, Dad? They’re all people, people who are alone, and scared, and looking over their shoulders, and I think…I think I’m supposed to help. Dad, more than that—I need to help. If I can make the darkness a little less frightening for them, than that’s what I have to do.” He looked at Jonathan, and Jonathan felt his heart swell. “That’s what I was taught to do,” he said softly.

Jonathan nodded. “You have to do what you have to do, son. I trust you.” He looked down and saw a flash of red hair streaking under them. Ripley was taking huge excited jumps up toward them—still just jumps, he mused.

“Clark, your instincts have been right before. And you have someone to help you do it.”

Clark smiled and nodded, his eyes soft the way they always went when they talked about Lex.

Clark brought them gently back to earth, and they both laughed at their reception. Ripley was running under them, yelling and waving her arms, shouting “me too me too.”

Jon stumbled a bit when Clark set him lightly on the porch, and in a second, swooped up Ripley, and tore off into the sky with her, faster than he’d done with him, higher, straight up like a rocket and Ripley’s excited laughter trailed down to him….

There was no way his son could keep his feet on the ground. He was meant to be flying—he was meant to be the amazing being he was. He might not be a religious kind of guy, but his son—well, it was obvious God had a plan for Clark, he had to admit. He grabbed the still warm cup of coffee and took a long thoughtful sip.

Lex…Lex was going to go into fits. He grinned over the rim of the mug, and listened, straining to hear Lex’s daughter shriek with laughter. Poor guy. Whatever plan *he’d* had for Clark was about to be turned on it’s ear.


	22. Chapter 22

The doors to Lex’s inner office flew open, and Lex looked up in surprise at the sight of Clark standing in his office, his highly agitated secretary behind him and already making excuses for the interruption.

He waved her off. “Shut the door behind you. Clark--this better be good, Wendy isn’t used to having her authority ignored so blatantly.” He went back to sit in his chair and tilted his head at Clark.

“Why aren’t you in Smallville? I thought you needed to decompress after that last trip overseas?” He smiled a little. “I’d planned to join you this weekend. I miss you.”

“Lex.”

Lex felt heat rise in his face—Clark’s voice was…rough and needy, and maybe he’d been mistaken about what was on Clark’s mind--he started to get up, go to him, but Clark was there, Clark’s mouth was over his, and really, it was impossible not to kiss him back, to feel the amazing heat where their lips joined. The wonderful thing about kissing Clark was how hot the inside of his mouth was, how cool it made his own tongue feel and how the contrast turned him on to a ridiculous degree. He never was able to kiss him without making a lot of embarrassing noise—and when Clark started groaning, he remembered why it was a good thing to be so noisy.

He peeked--Clark’s eyes were closed, he felt his breath flood over his chin, and cheek, his head tilted back more and more as he struggled to make the kiss deeper, their tongues slid across each other, touched and rubbed, for a wild minute, all he wanted was to push his fingers into Clark’s mouth just to watch him suck and lick them…

He jerked his head back and gasped, “Oh, shit, you do want something, don’t you?”

Clark laughed and gasped and managed to look outraged all at once. Lex smirked at him. “Don’t even try it. What is it?”

Clark dropped down on the edge of his desk, and folded his arms. “Well, yeah, I do need your help. I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and--”

With a knowing smile, Lex held up his hand, reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a folder. He handed it to Clark and told him, “Open it.”

Clark opened the envelope, and shook out a few sheets of heavy paper. “Lex…this…is a painting of a guy in a really hideous get-up—kind of an ugly, solid black version of Captain America…or maybe a really gay Black Bolt…” He flipped through the sheets, a puzzled frown wrinkling his forehead.

“Give me that!” Lex snatched the drawings out of Clark’s hand. “You obviously have no taste.”

Clark tried to understand exactly what Lex meant by the drawings, and slowly realization dawned… “Oh my god—you think I should be some kind of—comic book hero?"

"No! That’s not what I meant at all. I meant…okay, yes. I meant precisely that. Clark—you have a need to help—I heard that in your voice when you called, the whole conversation revolved around what you didn’t say, but I heard it, you know--everything you didn’t say. I know it nearly kills you *not* to help—but someone has to see that you have a life--for you, and for Alexandra, and for me. I want you to help, and I’m willing to share—but I’m not willing to give up all of you."

Clark listened with open-mouthed wonder. Lex was telling him—Lex was making plans, Lex…his eyes filled and for a moment he thought he was about to cry. Lex looked at him, chin lifted, eyebrow raised, lips pursed in a smirk—the effect entirely spoiled by red eyes and a suspicious quiver in his chin. He quickly coughed and dropped his head, busily shuffling the drawings about on his desk. “Well, I'll just toss these…”

Clark closed his hand over his, “Let’s take these home with us and look over them again, what do you say? I think we might be able to come up with an idea or two.”

Lex kept his eyes on him as he opened the intercom to his outer office and spoke.

“Wendy, cancel the rest of my meetings for today. An emergency has come up and I have to leave the office.”

Clark smiled and leaned over to kiss and nibble at Lex’s neck. He hissed, and said, “In fact, see what you can do about shuffling around my appointments for tomorrow, will you? I might be late coming in.”

Clark murmured against his sensitive throat, “…really, really late, a day or two…or three…”

*****  
They went back to the silent apartment, and Clark led Lex out to the patio. He left him sitting comfortably on a lounge, and went back inside, leaving a puzzled Lex behind him. When he reappeared at the door, he had a drink in his hand and a jacket.

“Um, nice—I could get used to this Clark,” Lex said as he took the drink, and let Clark help him into the jacket. Clark watched him, watched him drink, and then took the glass from him. Lex smiled. “Are we playing the billionaire and the cabana boy tonight?”

Clark laughed and drew him to his feet. “No. We’re going to play a completely different game—but I’ll keep that one in mind.”

He put his arms around Lex and Lex sighed, deeply content. There was something wonderful about being surrounded by his lover’s warmth, he thought, and the feeling of his broad chest under his spread hand, something wonderful about listening to the slightly faster beat of his heart, so strong, so even…Lex leaned his head on Clark’s shoulder and closed his eyes, inhaled the smell of him, the smell that he never told Clark had nearly the same effect on him that his seemed to have on Clark. He could find Clark in a crowd, just by scent. Wondered idly if he should tell him, wondered when Clark had become such a smooth dancer, he was gliding him around the patio like he was light as a feather….

Clark whispered in his ear, "Lex,” and his arms tightened around him, tight and safe and—“Open your eyes.”

Lex opened his eye, smiled at Clark—and yelled.

“Why does everyone do that?” Clark asked, and drifted closer to the patio floor.

“Clark—oh. My. God. You can fly.”

Clark nodded, his expression worried, maybe a little afraid---Lex said again. “You can fly…” It was unreal, fantastic—unbelievable, and yet they were floating, inches above the patio floor, and Clark was smiling hopefully now.

“How…how high can you go?” Lex asked, and swallowed around the lump in his throat. His heart was beating faster and faster, and…he was getting hard. Great. Just great.

Clark smiled. “Pretty damn high, I think,” he answered and inched up a bit more. He leaned back, as though he were leaning on something solid, instead of—air. Lex shivered a bit when their dicks brushed together—Clark was a little hard too…Lex managed to quell the shiver that wanted to spread through him, he was not about make any movement that might cause Clark to drop him…drop—“You—you won’t drop me will you?”

“Lex!”

“What if you sneeze, or…you get a cramp or…”

“Lex…” Clark’s voice was softer, but still filled with a kind of amused disbelief.

Lex leaned into Clark, the cool night air making his heat even more apparent, and more enveloping. “Clark, this is…I like it…I can’t believe that I’m up in the air without tons of steel around me and I actually like it.”

Clark laughed happily and sped up a bit and Lex clutched him, startled into squeaking in a most embarrassing way.

Clark kissed him, chaste, soft, moved lips over his cheek to his ear and whispered, "Don’t be afraid. I’ll keep you safe, Lex—I’ll never let you go.” He kissed him again and murmured, “I’ll never let you fall.”

Lex closed his eyes and knew that Clark was talking about a million things, like he always did. The key to understanding Clark was to know what he was telling you, no matter what he said.

Clark rolled lazily in the air, and Lex was full length on him, holding on tight. He was certain Clark was sure that he wouldn’t drop him but still….

“Lex, I want to make love to you up here, think how wonderful it would be, oh gosh--I want to suck you, I want you inside me, up here where it belongs to just us…”

Ignoring the throb Clark’s words sent through his dick, he patted him affectionately on the cheek. “Clark—never in our lifetime will I *ever* let you do that. I don’t want to plummet to my death because you want an orgasm.

Clark gave him the look that said, ‘you say no now, but soon… soon….’

“Down Clark—and I mean that literally.”

******  
“Seriously—red, and blue? *And* yellow? Are you blind? Or just totally without an ounce of taste?”

“Oh my—I picked you, didn’t I?”

“Clark—one example of good taste in your life doesn’t mean that you can be left alone to make--”

“Dads!”

They turned to look at Ripley, standing in Clark’s studio, her hands on her hips And a disgusted look on her face. “Gosh! Mature people? This is the example you set me? I’m impressionable, you know. This—this is no way to handle a disagreement.”

“Really?” Lex raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you have some way to settle this?”

Clark snickered when Ripley raised an eyebrow right back, so much like Lex…

“Cut cards?”

“What?”

“Draw straws?”

Lex stared at her incredulously “Straws? An important decision like this decided by--” she held out her hand to Clark, two little slivers of wood in it. He reached out to grab a straw, and Lex huffed. “Since when have I lost all control in this house?”

“Since we ganged up on you,” Clark smiled and showed Lex the short straw. “I get to choose, don’t I? Red and blue it is—they’re bright, warm, friendly colors, people will respond positively when they see those colors, not run screaming for cover when I drop out of the sky like—like some giant black bat.”

"Don’t be ridiculous," Lex said. He glared at Clark’s sketch of his color choice—“Friendly…trustworthy...people trust Barney, why don’t you pick purple and green using that logic--”

“For crying out loud-- Lex, first of all that’s nuts…”

Ripley sighed and wandered off to her room, shaking her head. “I wash my hands of the both of you,” she called, and shut her door, and leaned against it, and smiled and smiled until her cheeks ached, her eyes ached.

Her dads loved each other so much. Her heart floated, she was warm and happy, happier than she’d ever, ever felt---she didn’t know that she was an inch or two off the floor….


	23. Chapter 23

Her birthday was always special, but this year, she thought, this year was perfect. Her best friend in the world was sitting on one side of her, and her boyfriend was on the other side—she smiled happily at Greg, who automatically smiled back. Yeah, it was great, and perfect, and just the way she’d want to spend her birthday—but the most amazing, most wonderful thing about this birthday was that her dads were celebrating her birthday with her—together--and happy and…together. It was the best gift she could ask for.

Not that she was insane enough to say that out loud because gifts were gifts after all…

Irving was staring longingly at the kitchen door. “Is Mr. Lex going to be having dinner with us too?” Greg grabbed the top of his head, and twisted until Irving faced Ripley instead of the kitchen, and she grinned at him.

 

“Yes, my small munchkin like friend,” she said, “Poppa and Dad will be joining us.”

“Mr. Clark and Mr. Lex? Wow…that’s…cool,” he said, and turned a little pink. She nodded at Irving, and winked at Greg, who patted Irving on the arm.

“Now, now, little fellow, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

Irving leaned back in his chair and stared at Greg. “Knickers? Please-- you have no idea what knickers are and by the way, just because you’re abnormally tall doesn’t make me short. And I direct that at both of you.”

Ripley watched the two with a fond look. Those guys—they could argue about the littlest things. It was ridiculous, and adorable. She was distracted by the kitchen door swinging open as Poppa came out with…surprise, cut up veggies on a tray, yippie. She rolled her eyes. “Poppa, why do you keep hurting me this way? It doesn’t matter how you slice them, or arrange them or what you try and disguise them with—it’s still rabbit food on a plate.”

“Oh for… ‘real’ food’s coming, Alexandra, stuffed with starch and sugar and empty calories. Do you mind if there’s something *I* consider edible on the table?” He stared at her, and she grinned back, completely unrepentant, and highly amused. He cocked an eyebrow, and was about to say much more, she was sure—but they were both distracted by a small cough.

“Oh, I think raw vegetables are really delicious, Mr. Lex. Nice and crunchy! And good for you, too! They’re my favorite! Really!”

She bit her lip, and struggled not to laugh as Poppa turned slowly to stare down at Irving, who blushed so hard that Ripley was afraid that he was going to pass out.

“Um. Yes, well…that’s…nice.” He turned and went back into the kitchen.

******

Clark was stirring a pot on the stove, frowning into it.

“Clark…Clark…”

“Hmm? You know, the recipe was incredibly clear, and yet this looks nothing like the lying, misleading picture…tell me again why we’re not at the farm eating good food not made by us?”

“Because someone promised Lexie *we’d* make dinner for her on her birthday. Lord, Clark—what made you think that now was a good time to experiment…” He sniffed. “What *is* that?”

The doorbell rang, simultaneous with the sound of the door opening, and a loud yelp.

“Jordan’s here,” Clark murmured, eyes still on the bubbling pot of--Lex leaned around him—creamed corn. Maybe.

Lexie’s excited scream was all the conformation Lex needed as to the identity of their visitor. Lex wasn’t sure if he wanted to see what outrageously ridiculously expensive gift Jordan had gotten her this year. Whatever it was better not require food or house-breaking, that he was sure of. “I’ll bring him back to the kitchen. You just keep doing that stirring thing—you’re doing it so well.” He patted Clark’s arm and got a snort in return. It made him warm all over.

Lex walked out to the foyer, just as Jordan was hanging up his jacket, and kicking the doors shut, while managing to balance a large gift wrapped box between his knees, and a bag clutched in his teeth. “Uh, hinh Yex. Seet pohahoes.”

Lex smiled and took the bag gingerly, carefully avoiding the damp paper. “Oh how nice, Clark and Lexie love your mother’s sweet potatoes, be sure to thank her for us,”

Jordan grinned at the barely suppressed pain on Lex’s face, “Yep, sweeeet and tasty. Just the way we like them,” he said, and reached out, pulled Lex forward and kissed him lightly on the corner of the mouth

Lex pushed him back with a mock frown, “The kids are at the table all ready—the little one is being weird as usual.”

Jordan put the gift with others on the foyer table and smirked at Lex. “Unh-hunh. Weird. Where’s Clark?”

“He’s in the kitchen making…well, I’m not really sure…some sort of scalloped something--could be tinted paste, too. I’m about to heat up the food Cook left—and her cake is in the fridge.”

“You know, if we had a grill on that roof like I told you to buy, I could be cooking now. Fresh food. Real food.” Jordan shook his head and walked into the kitchen and waved at Clark, strolled over to the door separating the kitchen from the dining room, and peeked out. “So…the girl, the boyfriend and the friend. It’s cute—like the Three Stooges or something.”

Clark laughed and Lex raised his eyebrow. “How much do you think Alexandra would appreciate that comparison?”

Jordan laughed too, and strolled back over to the island, grabbed something to nibble on and looped his arm around Clark’s neck. “What’s up, little one?” He kissed the top of his head, and leaned over Clark to watch the pot with him. “Ech. Is that something we’re supposed to eat? What was it before you got hold of it?”

“First of all, I’m not your little one, secondly, I *can* cook you know, and I’m usually pretty darn good, too. Now could you please help Lex, and protect him from Irving? He claims the kid creeps him out.” Clark smirked at Lex, and Jordan laughed.

“Lex—you’re afraid of a kid, man? Come on, I’ll protect you.”

*****

Desert had been served, and diner plates removed, and the friends were sitting alone at the table, the adults were in the kitchen.

“When are you going to open your gifts, Lexie?”

“Well, the stuff from my dads I promised to wait and open at my grands’ house, we’re spending the weekend there.”

Greg looked disappointed. “Oh, I didn’t know you’d be gone.”

“Yeah—sorry.” She took his hand and squeezed lightly. “It’ll only be three days, and I’ll call you every night, and Irving will keep you company, right?”

Irving nodded, staring at his clean plate. “That was good pie. Would it be okay to ask for another piece, you think?”

Greg immediately slid his over. “Have mine.”

“Oh, no,” Irving said, eyes only for the pie. “That wouldn’t be right—you haven’t even tasted it.”

“No really, you like sweets better than I do—besides, I like watching you eat.” He blushed a little. “Wow. That sounded really weird.”

Ripley patted his hand. “I think it’s sweet. That’s why I love you.” She pinched his cheek and he laughed, blushed harder.

Irving ducked his head and ate his pie with gusto. Greg leaned in towards Ripley and kissed her—quick, more a peck than a kiss, but sweet, and it made her very happy. Greg smelled so good—and he had the softest lips. When he threw an arm around her shoulder to bring her closer, he accidentally smacked Irving, who for once didn’t smack him back or yell--just gave him a pie-filled smile, and kept eating. Greg squeezed his shoulder, and kissed Ripley quick again, before her dads came back to the table.

She giggled quietly at the shocked intake of breath behind her—served them right for being nosy.

****  
“Oh for god’s sake…” Lex scowled out of the half open door, strangling a tea towel, as Jordan crowded up behind him.

“—what—oh.”

Clark pushed in between them and looked over Lex too. “Oh. Should we say something?”

“Like what--break it up?” Lex stared out the doorway, deep in thought. Whatever he was thinking was making him deeply unhappy. He looked from Jordan to Clark, and glanced to the dining room, a frown line between his eyes, and Clark leaned back from him, a little. “What? What is it?”

“You,” he said. “You and your--your alien biology.” He scowled, before forcing a smile, and marched out of the kitchen and into the dining room. Sweeping through the room like a tornado, he gathered the kids in his wake. “All right it’s time to watch the movie. For you, Alexandra…it’s an advance screening copy of World Of Ptavvs. I know you will all enjoy it.”

The kids were excited, and Lex said, “And I’ll watch it with you.” He ushered them out of the room. “How about I sit right between….”

 

Clark looked at Jordan. “What’s up with him, you think?”

“I have no idea. Alien biology?” He shrugged. “Just Lex, I guess—oh shit.”

“What?”

Jordan stared at him, tilted his head, and searched Clark’s eyes. After a moment, he snorted. “Nothing. You’ll get it later. Let me get in that TV room before your husband kills someone—or that little kid explodes.”

 

Clark stared after him. Husband. Husband? He grinned. Yeah. Husband. That sounded…good.  


  
_The End_   


Clark stood behind Lex, smiling at their reflections in the mirror and adjusted his jacket, smoothed the lapels and kissed his ear. “You look incredible,” he said, and Lex did. The tuxedo fit him like a glove, the jacket hinted at the perfect ass just hidden by the hem and Clark wondered, would it be wrong to blow him—quick, fast, just to watch his face as he came—

Lex smacked his hand. “Stop thinking about sex—there’s no time for that now.”

Clark gasped. “Why, it’s as if you were reading my mind.”

Lex pressed back against him, rocking his hips slightly. “It wasn’t your mind I was reading,” he smirked.

Clark blushed and laughed. “Oh, yeah, well….”

Lex turned and surveyed Clark with a critical eye. He adjusted his tie, and flicked his collar into place and pronounced him fit for the public. He also kissed him, tracing the line of his lip with the tip of his tongue. Clark sucked in a breath and tried to lean into Lex, but he pushed him back. “Wait.” He lifted a boutonniere that matched his from the table at his side and fastened it to Clark’s lapel. “Now, you’re ready.”

Clark took his hand. “Hey. Can you believe it? Can you imagine what’s about to happen?”

Lex smiled. “I can hardly believe it. It’s like a dream…and have I told you lately how much I love you?”

Clark’s eyes filled, and he cupped Lex’s face in his hands. “I love you too—more than you can ever imagine.”

Lex coughed and shook him lightly. “Go—it’s almost time.” Clark nodded and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

“Don’t be nervous. I’m going to check on Rip.”

Lex opened his mouth, closed it and nodded. Clark dashed downstairs, as his mother bustled after him, calling out last minute advice, and Lex waited a moment. He leaned his elbows on the window sill, and looked out over the scene below him in the backyard.

At the rear of Martha’s cutting garden, a long swath of canvas lead to an arbor, and rows of folding chairs, filled already with friends and the family one collected through the years. It was prefect weather, not chilly, not humid, the sun bright enough to make his family glow. He smiled, satisfied that the setting couldn’t look lovelier, and certain that the wind wouldn’t shift, and come from over the fields—he simply wouldn’t allow it. Nothing could go wrong on this day.

He walked to the back door of the kitchen and the minister came up beside him. “All in order, Alexander?”

Lex nodded, and they walked out and came up behind the arbor. Lex went to stand next to Irving and Greg. Both the boys--men—looked nervous. Lex squared his shoulders, and as the strains of a trumpet fanfare faded, he looked up to see two pair of green eyes locked on his, and his heart soared. Clark and Alexandra stood at the head of the aisle. He glanced at Greg—he looked stunned, amazed, and a little faint and Irving‘s expression mirrored his. Lex gently tapped his foot with his and Irving blushed and looked away with a small nod.

 

He looked at the crowd and saw Jordan, handsome, tall, and smiling, and his eyes red, and damp. ‘Love you,’ he whispered silently and Lex nodded. Love you too. And suddenly, there they were--his reason for living. Both of them.

Alexandra—Lexie—Ripley—looked like a fairy princess in white and gold and red curls drifting around her shoulders. She seemed to float toward them and to his horror, Lex felt himself begin to cry.

Clark kissed her cheek, handed to Greg, and stepped away to stand between a weeping Martha and Jordan. Jonathan rubbed his eyes—a lot.

“Dearly beloved….”

  
_The End?_   


And Clark took Lex dancing late, late, after everyone was gone, and it was just the two of them, higher and higher, into the sky, and above the clouds, until Lex thought he could reach out and touch the moon, and Clark kissed him until he didn’t even consider the possibility of falling and whispered in his ear, “And they all lived happily ever after.”

_And it was true. And it was Forever_

 

9-18-2006


End file.
